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UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



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A PICTURE 



PIONEER TIMES 

IN CALIFORNIA 

ILLUSTRATED WITH 

ANECDOTES AND STORIES TAKEN 
FROM REAL LIFE. 



f 
BY WILLIAM fGREY. V ^ ^ n 



^^■i-N-VN -^ . X<\:„ 



AUTHORS EDITION. 




SAN FRANCISCO 

PRINTED BY W. M. HINTON & CO., 536 CLAY STREET 
1881. 



MSS5 



Entered according to Act of Consiress, in tlie year 18S1, by 

WILLIAM M. HINTON. 
In the Office of the Librarian of Congress at Washington. 




INTRODUCTION. 



This book is respectfully dedicated to the boys aud girls born on the Pa- 
cific Slope, of jnoueer parents. 

Its object is to draw a correct and faithful picture of pioneer times in 
California, and thus expose the misstatements of itinerant lecturei-s and 
thoughtless or vicious writers, who seem to delight in wholesale misrepresen- 
tation of the habits aud character of the first American settlers of this coast. 
The time has come when this matter should be discussed and set right; for 
the pioneers are fast passing away, aud in a few short years not one will be 
left to contradict and expose the slanderous charges now constantly put forth 
against them. 

In the picture I have drawn, I have sought to avoid claiming for the pio- 
neers one virtue not fairly theirs; nor have I attempted to conceal their errors. 
When speaking of individuals, I have tried to avoid undue praise or unjust 
censure. How far I have succeeded in making my picture a truthful repre- 
sentation, I leave my fellow pioneers to judge. 

The destinies of the great young States of the Pacific are fast passing 
into the hands of the children of the pioneers, and we, the parents, cheer- 
fully resign our trust, feeling sure that the amor palriai with them is most 
heartfelt, and, burning brightly, will be " the pillar of fire by night and the 
cloud by day " to guide them onward, and ensure a great future to the States 
of their birth. In resigning our leadership, it ought to be our ambition that 
our children should honor our memory, and feel proud that thoy are the 
children of California aud Oregon pioneers. 

It is this ambition that has iiromjited the writing of this volume. It is 
directly addressed to our young people; but I hope it will be found attrac- 
tive and interesting to every American citizen, and especially so to all our 
Ijioneers, who, day by day, as the shades of evening fall on their path, and 
their numbers lessen, grow nearer and nearer to each other, and more and 
more attached to all the recollections of the days when, as a band of brothers 
they, with cheerful hearts, faced every danger, side by side, and aroused into 
life this whole Pacific Coast. 

If my fellow pioneers find- that I have performed the task I assigned 
myself but iudifl'ereutly, I. hope they will at least credit a good intention and 
an earnest endeavor to the author. 

WILLIAM GKEY 



CONTENTS 



Chapter I—" The Annals of San Francisco."— Their unpardonable errors — The foundin<>' of 
the Missions — The good they accomplished — The'r great wealth— Influence upon 
the Indians — The traducers of the Mission Fathers— Mr. Dwinelle's address at the 
centennial celebration of the founding of the Mission Dolores — Miss Skidmore's 
poem 1 

Chapter II — " Reflections of the " Annals." — The future of the American Republic— Our 

true policy — The London " Times" and the civil war 16 

Chapter III— The conquest of California — The absurd account of it given in the " Annals." 
Exaggerations and misstatements — Stockton, Kearny and Fremont — Stockton's 
march to Los Angeles — His reception at San Francisco— His alleged project of 
invading Mexico — Second reduction of California 20 

Chapter IV — Conditions which made the conquest of California an easy one — The murder of 
Foster — The tell-tale revolver — The vaquero's story — Capture of Mariana — His ex- 
amination — Subsequent escajje — Mr. Breen's story — The old woman and the dying 
man — Mr. Breen and the man — The Msxinan's confession — The murder of his affi- 
anced and an American — Death of the Cary brothers — The Mexican's murder of 
his own friend — His remorse — Father Anzer's visits — The burial — Other murders. . 31 

Chapter V — Discovery of gold by Marshall — Unsuccessful endeavor to keep the matter 
secret — Life in California — Incorrect account of it in the " Annals." — AUegeJ dis- 
sipation of all classes — General indulgence in gambling — Amusements, etc 48 

Chapter VI — The nature of our early immigration — Difficulties and expense— The writer's 
own experiences — The South Carolina — Character of the voyagers, and their amuse- 
ments—The only lady passenger — Rio— Three scalawags and their fates — The Em- 
peror's garden — Puzzling money — Slave trade and civil rights — Isaac Friedlander, 
Conroy and O'Connor— John A. McGlynn, W. T. Shaw, D. J. Oliver, Wm. F. 
White — Air castles — Dead and living 67 

Chapter VII — Island of Juan Fernandez^Escape of the convicts — Entering the Golden 
Gate — Unwillingness of captains to command California bound ships — Preparations 
to check mutiny — Mutinies on two ships, and their justification 79 

Chapter VIII — First impressions of San Francisco — Its hurry of business— Meeting old 
faces — 57,000 gain on an investment of nothing — A lesson from "Tony" — First 
brick building — John A. McGlynn and one of San Francisco's two wagons — The 
monthly mail— Curious government accounts — Mr. McGlynn at the great fire 81 

Chapter IX — The three classes of citizens — The gentlemen politicians — The cause of the 
Vigilance Committees — The typical miner — Welcome arrivals— Ingenious furniture. 
Early law courts • 95 

Chapter X — Bill Liddle — A dangerous pass in the mountains — Old Kate's intelligence — The 
meeting in the pass— Valor of old Kate — The discomfited conductor — The trial, and 
the Alcalde's decision — Comparison between the old and new methods of settling 
disputes— Life of a politician — A Cabinet Minister's advice to a young applicant for 
a position 115 



VI CONTENTS. 

Chapter XI — Strange recognitions — Stolen money returned — Monterey — Hospitality of its 
inhabitants — Its decay — A fandango — Don David Spense and Don Juan Cooper. 
Meeting of old friends — Talbot H. Green — His generosity — Refusal of nominations 
for United States Senator and Mayor — His marriage — Recognition by a lady — The 
Democratic Convention — Green's identification as an absconder— Denial of the 
charge — His departure from San Francisco — Subsequent career 122 

Chapter XII — Wages and merchandise — A slow English firm — A customer for bowie knives. 

A shrewd speculation in sheetings .- 132 

Chapter XIII — .lohn W. Geary — Historj- of his advancements — As Alcalde and as Mayor. . . 139 
Chapter XIV — The Society of California Pioneers — Their indorsement of the "Annals.'" 
" Woman's rights" — True sphere of a woman — Resources of California — News- 
papers, banks and manufactories — The judiciary — The railroads and the new con- 
stitution — Californians who have won laurels in the East — Loss of the Central 
America — Rescue of the women and children by the brig Marine — Terrible part- 
ing.s — Cowardice of two men — Others saved— General Sherman's account — A pas- 
senger's story 162 

Chapter XV — Fascination of pioneer times — Anecdotes and stories in illustration 173 

Chapter XVI — A California miser — A speculation in hogs — A marriage of a bashful womin. 
A life saved by New York law — A lawyer's first appearance in court — A good speech 
reserved— Squatters dispersed by refusing to talk — A case won by using an Irish 
authority— A "divide " with robbers and lawyers — Dan Murp'ij- loses his cash 179 



ELLEN H.\RVEY; OR, THE WIFE S DIS.\PPOINTMENT. 

Chapter I — On board of the steamer 

II — A pleasant lunch party — Retrospect 219 

III — The proposal of marriage 230 

IV — Departure for California 236 

V — Sickness — Susan Marsh, the nurse 241 

VI — Mrs. Gabit— The wife's anguish 2-18 

VII— Ellen and the Rev. Father 262 

VIll— Frank's letter to his wife 273 

IX — The wife's letter to her husband 28t' 

X — Susan Marsh's subsequent history— Conclusion 287 



ADA ALLEN; OR, THE HUSBAND S SURPRISE. 

Chapter I— Arrival in San Francisco— Captain Casserly 293 

II— Edmund Allen— A beautiful girl 301 

III — A troublesome coluun of figures 307 

IV — The poor widow— Mr. Morehouse and Edmund 312 

V— The song— The proposal of marriage 320 

VI — News from California— A terrible dream 325 

VII — Minnie Wagner— Brother and sister 329 



CONTENTS Vll 

VIII — The girl's eriaml — Ada and Minnie 337 

IX — Desire to fro to California — Departure 343 

X— First letter from Edmund— Mrs. Bucket 348 

XI — Mr. and Mrs. Morehouse and Mrs. Bucket • • 3S7 

XII— Tbe welcome letter from Edmund 365 

XIII— The wife's anxiety — Departure 369 

XIV — San Francisco— The pretty little cottage 383 

XV — From the theater— The joyful meeting 387 

XVI — Waiting for letters— Mrs. Bucket again 393 

XVII — A housekeeper's difficulties — Conclusion 39') 



MINNIE ■\VAGNER: OR, THE FORGED NOTE. 

Chapter I — A happy breakfast — Arrival in California 401 

II — Sir .John Cameron — Agnes and Liisk 4Cn 

III — A selfish child — Father and daughter 417 

IV— The robbers trapped— Young Lusk 422 

V — Escape — Capture of a Chilean vessel — The fight 430 

VI — News from Walter — Mrs. Lighthead 4S9 

VII— Minnie's plan to meet her brother 458 

XIII — Rich gold diggings — .John Ward ■ ■ 463 

IX — Discovery— Wild and Jim Becket — In danger 481 

X — Pursuit — The villains foiled — New friends 497 

XI — The drunken messenger — The forged note fiOS 

XII — Waiting — Attempted abduction — The villains' fate 516 

XIII — A visit from Captain Ward — Somber thoughts 533 

XIV— James De Forest and Minnie — The Colonel's cattle 530 

XV — Preparing for sea — Captain Ward and Brown 54f. 

XVI — Confession of love — Captain Ward's arrival 551 

XVII — Attempted assassination — A consultation 559 

XVIII — The robbery — Minnie's encouragement 566 

XIX — More trouble for Walter — Minnie's request 580 

XX — Arrival of James De Forest — Minnie's generosity 588 

YXI — A note from Captain Ward — " A boat ahoy !" 599 

XXII — A visit to Father Maginnis — Captain Ward's proposal 605 

XXIII — Walter and Ward — Caught in a trap 613 

XXI V— Miss Scott and Lizzie— The struggle 626 

XXV — Anxiety for Walter and Minnie — On the track 639 

XXVI — The prisoners — Captain Ward's horrid fate 644 

XXVII — At sea in an open boat — Rescued by De Forest 6.57 

XXVIII — Happy events- Honclusion 67:2 



A PICTURE OF 

PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA, 



CHAPTER I. 

"THE ANNALS OF SAN FRANCISCO"— THEIR UNPARDONABLE ERRORS-THE 
FOUNDING OF THE MISSIONS — THE GOOD THEV ACCOMPLISHED — TIIEIU 
GREAT WEALTH- INFLUENCE UPON THE INDIANS— THE TRADUCERS OF THE 
MISSION FATHERS— MR. DWINELLE'S ADDRESS AT THE CENTENNIAL CELE- 
BRATION OF THE FOUNDING OF THE MISSION DOLORES— MISS SKIDMORE'S 
POEM. 

In the year 1854, -when the duration of the American rule in 
California was yet but little over five years, three well known 
citizens, then residing in San Francisco, wrote and published a 
book entitled "The Annals of San Francisco," and dedicated it to 
the "Society of California Pioneers." This book was neither more 
nor less than a caricature of the manners and habits of the 
early American settlers of this coast. We all knew of its grave 
misrepresentations, and looked upon it with contempt, not only 
for that, but because it was plainly got up to puff individuals 
mostly unworthy, and because it was written in a stylo of bold, 
immoral bravado, that was disgusting to all true Californians. 
Notwithstanding this, it was for a time widely circulated, and 
read almost Avithout adverse comment, for in the rush and ex- 
citement of those days no one had time to attack it and expose itS 
true character. It had its run; and, as is the case with all such 
books, it soon dropped out of sight. Its publication and i'ls 
fate, however, prevented any attempt by others to write a more 
faithful history of the times; so that to-day it remains the only 
book claiming to be a regular, authentic history of the pioneer 
times iu California. 



2 PIONEER TIMES IN CALIEORNIA, 

As I have said, it was dedicated to the Society of Cali- 
fornia Pioneers, and they never repudiated the dedication. 
The book, therefore, went forth with their indorsement. This 
gave it a standing it never could have had otherwise. As the 
Society of California Pioneers is of the very first respectability, 
each individual member is supposed to be a competent witness 
to the truth of its assertions. This criminal neglect by the society, 
in not repudiating the dedication, was most serious in its conse- 
quences; for, although the book is very seldom met with in pri- 
vate libraries, we find it constantly quoted by lecturers and 
writers on California, as first class authority. 

In this volume I do not pretend to give a regular history of 
pioneer times in California; but simply n. picture of them, intend- 
ing to show the true character of the emigrants who flocked to 
this State on the discovery of gold in 1848, and later. This pic- 
ture of mine will be found so entirely different from any that 
could be drawn from the "Annals," that, to satisfy my readers 
that I do not condemn that book unjustly, it is necessary for me 
to give some parts of it in a short review. 

In many instances the " Annals " give the facts of history 
correctly, but the trouble is the authors are not satisfied to let 
the facts speak for themselves, when the imj)ression given is op- 
posed to their views and prejudices. No; in such cases they do 
all they can to make "truth seem a lie," or vice versa, as may 
be agreeable to them. 

For instance, let us take the history of the early Missions in 
California, just as it is recorded in the "Annals," without the 
comments, sneers and "reflections" of the authors themselves, 
and what do we find ? "We find that, a little over one hundred 
years ago, in 1776, this beautful State of ours lay almost asleep 
here on the Pacific slope, inhabited only by about seventy-five 
i^housand Indians. According to the "Annals," we find those 
tndians to be of the most degraded caste, making a precarious 
and miserable livelihood by hunting, fishing and collecting the 
acorns that are found on a sort of scrub oak in the mountain dis- 
tricts. They were naked and houseless. Then we find coming 
on the scene the Missionary Fathers, at first four in number, 
and according to the "Annals" men of wonderful energy, of 
surprising judgment, pious and virtuous — "pure in their lives, 
and faithful to their calling," they tell us. They had nothing of 
self to work for. Their lives were simple as frugality could make 



J'lONEER TIMES IN CALIPOBNtA.. 3 

them. They had no wives and children to be aggrandized and 
made rich. They had no string of poor relations hanging around 
them to be cared for. No; according to the facts given us in the 
"Annals," they had nothing to urge them on but the purest be- 
nevolence and their anxiety to bring those benighted, poor, 
miserable human beings to the knowledge of the true and onlj- 
God, and at the same time to relieve their physical wants by 
clothing the naked and feeding the hungry. According to the 
"Annals," the Missionaries succeeded in converting more than 
twenty-five thousand of these j)eoplo to the knowledge of God 
and the Christian religion; and then we find these Indians 
clothed, fed, housed, and happy. We find them industrious 
and hard working, as the monuments left attest. We find, by 
the testimony of the "Annals," that the government under 
which the Missionary Fathers had brought them was of a kind, 
parental character. The same authority tells us that "towards the 
converts and actually domesticated servants the Fathers always 
showed such an afi'ectionate kindness as a father pays to the 
youngest and most helpless of his family." Then, from the 
"Annals" we learn, that the labors of the Missionaries were 
crowned with success to the fullest, changing this idle, vagabond 
people into an industrious, productive farming community, as the 
following statement of live stock raised by the Missionaries in 
1825, and of the farming produce of the harvest of 1831, will 
attest: 

In 1825 the Mission Dolores, of this city, had 76,000 head of cattle, 950 

tame horses, breeding mares, 84 stud of choice breed, 820 mules, 79,000 

sheep, 2,000 hogs, 456 yoke of working oxen, 18,000 bushels of grain, $35, - 
000 worth of merchandise, and $25,000 in specie. 

In 1823 Santa Clara branded 29,400 calves as the year's increase, and 
owned 74,280 head of full-grown cattle, 407 yoke of working oxen, 82,540 
sheep, 1,890 trained horses, 4,235 mares, 725 mules, 1,000 hogs, and $120,- 
000 in goods. 

San Jose had, in 1825, 3,000 Indians, 62,000 head of cattle, 840 tame 
horses, 1,500 mares, 420 mules, 310 yoke of oxen, and 62,000 sheep. 

San Juan Batista, in 1820, owned 43,870 head of cattle, 1,360 tame horses, 
4,879 mares, colts and fillies, 69,530 sheep, 321 yoke of working oxen, $75,- 
000 in goods, and $20,000 in specie. 

In 1825, San Carlos branded 2,300 calves, and had 87,600 head of cattle, 
1,800 horses and mares, 365 yoke of oxen, 5,400 sheep, much merchandise, 
and $40,000 in specie. 

Santa Cruz, in 1830, had 48,200 head of cattle, 3,200 horses and mares, 
72,500 sheep, 200 mules, large herds of swine, and $25,000 worth of silver 
plate. 



4 PIONEER TIHES IX C.iLIFORXIA. 

Soledad, in 1826, owned 3G.000 head of cattle, 300 yoke of oxen, 70,000 
sheep, and more horses and mares than any other Mission. So rapidly did 
its horses increase that they were given away in order to preserve the pas- 
tures for cattle and sheep. 

In 1822, San Antonio owned 52,800 head of cattle, 1,800 tame horses, 3,000 
mares, 500 yoke of working oxen, COO mules, 48,000 sheep, and 1,000 swine 

San Miguel, in 1821, owned 01,000 head of cattle, 1,100 tame horses, 3,000 
mares, 2,000 mules, 170 yoke of working oxen, and -17,000 sheep. 

San Fernando, in 1826, owned 56,000 head of cattle, 1,500 horses and 
mares, 200 mules, 400 yoke of working oxen, 64,000 sheep, 2,000 swine, $50,- 
000 in merchandise, <ind $90,000 in specie. Its vineyards yielded 4,000 
gallons of wine and brandy per annum. 

In 1829, San Gabriel had 70,000 head of cattle, 1,200 horses, 3,000 mares, 
400 mules, 120 yoke of working oxen, and 54,000 sheep. Its annual income 
from wine was §12,000. 

In 1826, San Luis Hey had 70,000 head of cattle, 2,000 horses, 140 yoke 
of tame oxen, and 68,000 sheei^. 

At one time San Luis Obispo had 80,000 head of grown cattle, 2,000 tame 
horses, 3,500 mares, 3,700 mules, and 72,000 sheep. 

La Purissima, in 1830, had over 40,000 head of cattle, 300 yoke of working 
oxen, 2,600 tame horses, 4,000 mares, 30,000 sheep, and 5,000 swine. 

Santa Inez, in 1820, owned ^800,000 worth of property. 

Santa Barbara, in 1828, had 40,000 head of cattle, 1,000 horses, 2,000 
mares, 80 yoke of oxen, 600 mules, and 20,000 sheep. 

San Buenaventura, in 1825, owned 37,000 head of cattle, 600 riding horses, 
1,300 mares, 200 yoke of working oxen, 500 mules, 30,000 sheep, 200 goats, 
2,000 swine, orchards, vineyards, §35,000 in foreign goods, §27,000 in specie, 
with church ornaments and clothing valued at §61,000. 

The harvest of 1831 was: 

Bushels of wheat 62,860 

Bushels of corn 27,315 

Bushels of beans and peas 6,817 

In what an absurd light this showing puts the sneers of the 
authors of the "Annals!" Supposing these Indians to be of our 
own race and intelligence, could they have done much better, 
considering their numbers and the primitive sort of farming 
tools in their possession, and the total absence of farming ma- 
chinery ? 

There is not one material fact cited in the whole account by 
the "Aunals" affecting the character of the Missionary Fath- 
ers. The picture of contentment, happiness and physical com- 
fort this people present to our view is most charming, so much 
so that even the authors of the " Annals " themselves cannot 
help exclaiming: " The great beauty and peacefulness of such 



PIONEER TIMES IN C.VLIFOKNIA. 

a life must be a delightful subject of contemplation to the wear- 
ied spirits who labored through the turmoils, anxieties and vex- 
ations of the great world." These Missions flourished in all 
their splendor for about seventy-five years, and for that long 
period more than thirty thousand human beings were well fed, 
well clothed and well housed. They were taught to be indus- 
trious and useful workers, while their leisure hours were made 
happy by the inauguration of innocent amusements. Not only 
the authors of the " Annals," but every writer of credit who has 
treated of these Missions, agrees in saying that the Indians, 
while under the control of the Missionary Fathers, were virtu- 
ous, industrious, good and happy. "A tree is known by its 
fruit," and one would suppose that the " Annals " would have 
been content to give the facts of history in regard to the Mis- 
sions, and let their readers form their own conclusions. They, 
however, do nothing of that sort; they interlard the whole 
account with sneering comments and absurd " reflections," that 
do them no credit if they pretend to be believers in Christianity. 
They go to the expense of having wood-cuts jDrepared for their 
book, intended to bring ridicule on the Missionary Fathers. 
They assert that the Indians were only seemingly converted, and 
that, after their seeming conversion, they were nothing but 
"lazy, fat, over-fed beasts," worse than when they were naked, 
hungry and houseless, under the control of sorcerers in religion. 
Then, with a self-complacency that is refreshing, they say: 
" California and humanity owe nothing to the Missionary Fath- 
ers. Away with them!" You, my young readers, who are 
natives of this California of ours, will, I trust, feel it a duty to 
examine this subject for yourselves, and see how far the " An- 
nals" are justified in the judgment the authors pronounce with 
such apparent satisfaction to themselves. When you do so, I 
think you will find every fact of history in relation to these Mis- 
sions a condemnation of the flippant judgment they give, even 
if you search no further than their own book. If it were other- 
wise, how could it have been possible for the Missionary Fath- 
ers to accomplish tlie wonders they tell us of? If tlie Indians, 
when fed, clotljed and housed, were not immensely improved, 
morally, intellectually and physically, could they have made the 
showing recorded in the *' Annals" in stock-raising and general 
farming? If men do not believe in religion of any of 

course they will, as the authors of the "Annals" do in this 



b PIOXEEK TIMES IX CALIFOR>"IA. 

case, ridicule as absurd the attempts that religious men are con- 
stantly making all the world over to bring heathens to the 
knowledge of God and His religion. If this is the position of 
our authors, we can understand them, so far as religion goes; 
but they should explain to us how it is that humanity owes 
nothing to those who, as they tell us, rescued thousands, and 
tens of thousands, of poor human beings from nakedness, hun- 
ger and cold, and changed them into a happy, well-fed, prosper- 
ous people. They tell us the Missionaries were virtuous, good, 
and faithful to their calling. Why is it that that calling was 
not a noble one which they so faithfully followed for over 
seventy-five years '? "V\'hy is it that if the authors of the "An- 
nals " had saved ten human beings from cold and starvation, be 
their skins white, black or red, they would expect their praises 
to be sung throughout the laud ? And so they surely would be. 
Yet, the mighty work of the Missionaries '"deserves nothiug 
from humanity!"" "Why is it that the name of Florence Nightin- 
gale is a household word with the English-speaking people all 
the world over? Yet, what comparison is there in what she did 
to earn her well-deserved renown to the life-long charity of the 
Missionary Fathers in California? Yet the "Annals" tell us 
they " deserve nothing from humanity."' It is to be regretted 
that such a man as Doctor Stillman should also yield to early- 
imbibed prejudices so far as to chime in with these authors of 
the "' Annals"" in an onslaught on the California Missions, as he 
does in his very entertaining book entitled, "Seeking the 
Golden Fleece." His statements to the disadvantage of the 
Missionaries are supported by quotations from the reports of 
some early navigators on this coast — one a Frenchman, another 
a Russian, and two more. Englishmen. Every one of these 
men was the bitterest natural enemy of Spain, and anxious that 
their own respective nations should get possession of this beau- 
tiful countiT. Some of them were badly treated here, and were 
generally only permitted to remain a few days in the country. 
"Under these circumstances, it is not surprising that the reports 
they gave of all they saw in California should be most unfavora- 
ble to the Spanish authorities, and especially to the Mission- 
aries. But why go back so far to get testimony for or against 
iho Missionaries of California, when we have it here at home, 
where its truth can be tested ? Why did not the Doctor go to 
Santa Clara, or any of the other principal old Missions, and in- 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALTFORNU. 7 

terview old men, wno are there to be found even now, who 
lived at those Missions at the very time some of the Doctor's 
witnesses are said to have visited this coast, and ascertained 
from those living witnesses the truth as to the conduct of those 
Missions when under the rule of the Missionaries ? "When we 
came here, in '4:0, there were Americans, Englishmen and 
Scotchmen living here who had been on this coast from ten to 
twenty years before our time, and of course while the Missions 
were in the hight of their power, yet not a word had any of 
them to say that would corroborate Doctor Stillman's represen- 
tations. The Doctor's statement, in brief, is about this: That 
the Missionaries were "cruel" and "brutally tyrannical" in 
their government of the Indians. That they sunk the Indians 
to a lower state of *• nastiuess and filth " and " general degrada- 
tion " than they found this people in when they came among 
them. Then the Doctor concludes by telling us, in sober 
earnestness, that "The three great divisions of Christendom, 
Catholic, Greek Catholic and Protestant, give a fearful array 
of evidence " to prove that all this is so. One division he 
makes out to be the Frenchman, as he supposes him to be a 
Catholic. The second division of Christendom he calls the Eus- 
sian, as he takes him to be a Greek Catholic. The thii'd division 
is his English witness, as he supposes him to be a Protestant. 
If the Doctor is right in holding that Christendom or Christian- 
ity was embodied in these three men, the evidence they give is 
undoubtedly very important; but if the plain truth were known, 
I think there are hine chances to one that not one of these sail- 
ors cared a fig about religion of any sort. They were all men 
of the world, attached to their own nationalities and against all 
others, with the strong prejudices of those times. They un- 
doubtedly agreed on one point, and that was, that all done by 
Spain was badly done, and must be represented to the home 
government in the worst possible light. 

Dr. Stillman's attack on the Missions is more wholesale than 
that of the " Annals," because the "Annals" give the facts of 
history, and those facts contradict their own assertions. The 
Doctor tries to avoid this, and does avoid it, except in one in- 
stance. On page 304 of his book he quotes from his great 
Catholic witness. La Yseronse, who says, " There ivasno attempt 
made to teach them [the natives] the most common arts. Their 
gi-ain was ground by women in the primitive Indian method." 



8 PIOSEER TIMES IN* CALIFORXLV, 

On page 315 the Doctor gets his Greek Catholic witness to tell 
us that when the Missionary rule ceased, " Not a solitary memo- 
rial of benefit conferred remained. No mill, not even a black- 
smith, and the commonest wants of civilized life were not sup- 
plied to mitigate the rigorous despotism." Then, on page 320, 
in speaking of this same period, the Doctor calls up an English 
witness, who says: "They [the Indians] had been taught in 
many of the arts, and there loere, in almost evert/ division, weavers, 
tanners, shoemakers, blacksmiths, carpenters, bricklayers and other 
artificers." 

What now becomes of the Doctor's great Catholic witness, as 
quoted from page 3U4'? It surely cannot be that one whole divi- 
sion of Christendom lied. This quotation from page 320 also 
puts the Greek Catholic division of Christendom in a very ques- 
tionable light — in fact, it looks to me as if it let both these divi- 
sions out, as witnesses worthy of credit, particularly as we all, 
here in California, know, of our own knowledge, that the quota- 
tion from page 320 is true, and the other untrue. 

But what is the use of further notice of such misrepresenta- 
tions of the Missions as these of Dr. Stillman, who bases his 
accusations on such testimony as that of long since dead sailor3. 
who visited this coast only for a few days, and who were filled 
with national prejudices against the Missionaries and the nation 
to which they belonged, while he ignores or refuses, or neglects 
to hear, the testimony of witnesses, many of whom have not yet 
passed away from among us, and who fiiatly contradict the repre- 
sentations of those roving sea captains of long 'ago. 

We cannot help feeling pity for men who allowed themselves 
to be so govei'ned by their prejudices as to make them seek to 
rob the glorious dead of the good name they so fairly and justly 
won. We should all be sure to have an authentic history of 
those wonderful Missions in our family library, and when our 
heart sickens, as it sometimes must, at the dailj' exhibitions all 
around us of selfish, cunning, plotting, hypocritical men, each 
trying to outreach and get the advantage of the other, crushing 
out, in their mad struggle with each other, all the teachings of 
Christianity, and all the natural benevolence of the human heart. 
AVhen every one, as he rushes by in his frantic pursuit of selfish, 
worldly joys, cries fool to hioa who is yet humane and unselfish, 
and who seeks, in the light of the teachings of the Cross, to share 
all with all. Yes, when our faith is shaken by this disgusting 



PIONEER TEHES IN CALIFORNIA. 9 

aspect of our humanity, which makes the beasts of the field seem 
superior to us, let us take from the shelf that book and read the 
story of the Missions of California, and it "will restore firmness 
to our faith and admiration and respect for our humanity. Fox' 
there we will find men of education and of the highest order of 
ability, resigning home, friends and every prospect of worldly 
comfort, dedicating their whole lives, without any reserve for 
self, to a struggle in a foreign land, to rescue a nation of misera- 
ble, degraded savages from hunger, nakedness and the lowest 
depths of superstition. A^ the worldly-proud white man reads 
the first line of the story of <he Missions, which announces the 
landing in California in ITTo of thasa Missionaries, he is sur- 
prised how sane men could undertake such a task with any hope 
of success, and exclaims, perha^is, " You will not succeed; and if 
you do, what are those red savages to us?" The Missionary 
answers, " In them I see brothers, human beings like ourselves, 
every one as dear to God as a prince on his throne." In such 
faith— a faith that knows no doubting — ^the Missionary works, 
strives and toils; and, as we behold their wondrous success, our 
astonishment and admiration are mingled with pride and grati- 
tude to God that He has endowed our humanity with such hero- 
ism in charity; and its contemplation inspires us with a desire 
to do our part in efforts to drive back and stay the flood of selfish 
teaching that threatens to stifle every noble aspiration of our 
humanity. As we lay the book do^vn — no matter what our 
peculiar views in religion may be — we feel that the virtues and 
triumphs won by the Missionary Fathers of California belong- 
alike to Christian civilization, and that their memories should be 
guarded by all from misrepi-esentation. It may not be out of 
place here to quote a few passages from the late Hon. John "W. 
Dwindle 's address, delivered on the occasion of the Centennial 
Celebration of the founding of the Mission church in San Fran. 
Cisco. It will show how such men as Mr. Dwinelle sympathized 
with the authors of the "Annals" and Dr. Stillmau, in their 
foolish attempts to belittle the work of the Missionaries : 

"The immediate results of the Mission scheme of christianization and 
colonization were such as to justify the plans of the wise statesmen who 
devised it, and to gladden the hearts of the pious men who devoted 
their lives to its execution. At the end of sixty-five years (in 183i), 
the Missionaries of Upper California found themselves in the possession of 
twenty-one prosperous Missions, planted upon a line of about seven hundred 
miles, running from San Diego north to the latitude of Sonoma. More than 



10 PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA.. 

thirty thousand Indian converts were lodged in the Mission buildings, receiv- 
ing religious culture, assisting at divine worship, and cheerfully performing 
their easy tasks. Over seven hundred thousand cattle, of various species, 
pastured upon the plains, as well as sixty thousand horses. One hundred 
and twenty thousand bushels of wheat were raised annually, which, with 
maize, beans, peas, and the like, made up an annual crop of one hundred 
and eighty thousand bushels; while, according to the climate, the different 
Missions rivaled each other in the production of wine, brandy, soap, leather, 
hides, wool, oil, cotton, hemp, linen, tobacco, salt and soda. Of two hun- 
dred thousand horned cattle annually slaughtered, the Missions furnished 
about one-half, whose hides, hoofs, horns and tallow were sold at a net result 
of about ten dollars each, making a million dollars from that source alone; 
while the other articles, of which no definite statistics can be obtained, doubt- 
less reached an equal value — making a total production of the Missions them- 
selves of two million dollars. Gardens, vineyards and orchards surrounded 
all the Missions, except the three northernmost — Dolores, San Eafael 
and Solano, the climate of the first being too inhospitable for that 
purpose; and the two latter, born near the advent of the Mexican Eevolu- 
tion, being stifled in their infancy. The other Missions, according to their 
latitude, were ornamented and enriched with plantations of palm trees, ba- 
nanas, oranges, olives and figs, with orchards of European fruits, and with 
vast and fertile vineyards, whose products were equally valuable for sale and 
exchange, and for the diet and comfort of the inhabitants of the Missions. 
Aside from these valuable properties and from the Mission buildings, the live 
stock of the Missions, valued at their current rates, amounted to three mil- 
lions of dollars of the most active capital, bringing enormous annual returns 
upon its aggregate value, and, owing to the great fertility of animals in Cali- 
fornia, more than repairing its annual waste by slaughter. 

"It was something, surely, that over thirty thousand wild, barbarous and 
naked Indians had been brought in from their savage haunts; persuaded to 
wear clothes; accustomed to a regular life; living in Christian matrimony ; in- 
ured to such light labor as they could endure; taught a civilized language; 
instructed in music; accustomed to the service of the Church; partaking of 
its sacraments, and indoctrinated in the Christian religion. And this system 
had become self-sustaining, under the mildest and gentlest of tutelage; for 
the Franciscan monks, who superintended these establishments, most of 
whom were from Spain, and many of whom were highly cultivated men — 
statesmen, diplomatists, soldiers, engineers, artists, lawyers, merchants and 
physicians before they became Franciscans — always treated the neophyte In- 
dians with the most paternal kindness, and did not scorn to labor with them 
in the field, the brickyard, the forge and the mill. When we view the vast 
constructions of the Mission buildings, including the churches, the refecto- 
ries, the dormitories, the workshops, the granaries, and the rancherias — 
sometimes constructed with huge timbers brought many miles on the shoul- 
ders of the Indians — and look at the massive constructions at Santa Barbara, 
and the beautiful sculptures a'ad ribbed stone arches of the church of the 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 11 

Carmeio, we cannot deny that the Franciscan Missionary monks had the wis- 
dom, sagacity, absolute self-denial, self-sacrifice and patience to bring their 
neophyte pupils forward on the road from barbarism to civilization, and 
that these Indians were not destitute of taste and capacity. It is enough 
that the Franciscan monks succeeded in all they undertook to accomplish. 
It matters not that the Spanish theory of the available capacity of the 
Americo-Indian races for final self-government and independent citizenship 
was a false one; after having shown that these people could be christianized 
and civilized by the attraction of kindness and the imposition of systematic, 
regular and easy tasks while in a state of pupilage, the destruction of the 
Missions of California seems to have demonstrated the converse proposition 
that these are the only conditions of the proximate christianization of these 

races. 

* « * * * » ■)(.* * 

"But although the Missions, as such, were destroyed, although the Mission 
system thus disappeared and the body of the neophytes was absorbed iq one 
general cataclysm of drunkenness, mendacity and disease, still some results 
remained, which were worth all that they cost. Taking the number of 30,- 
000 Indians, who resided in the Missions at the hight of their prosperity, 
and estimating the life of the average Indian as a short one, as it undoubtedly 
was, I calculate that during the sixty-five years of the prosperity of the Mis- 
sions no less than 60,000 christianized Indians were buried in her cainpos 
Santos — her consecrated cemeteries. I estimate that during the last hundred 
years no less than 20,000 whites — native and foreign — were buried, as bap- 
tised Catholics, in the same holy soil. I know that during all this period, 
the Mission Churches filled the office of Secular Churches to the native and 
foreign populations; and that when people came into California as emigrants, 
from England, Scotland and the United States, they almost always were bap- 
tised into the Catholic Church. So that when the Mission system reached 
its period by limitation, and the United States succeeded to the political do- 
minion of Spain and Mexico, something still remained, which had not died, 
and which can never die. It was a series of Catholic churches, extending 
from San Diego to Sonoma, with the altars, the vestments and the parapher- 
nalia of worship. It was the solemn Registers of Births, Marriages and 
Burials, extending backward for a hundred years, and invoking the mysteri- 
ous solemnity of religion upon those acts upon which repose domestic hap- 
piness and the security of property. This was the position which the Church 
occupied in California; a position which she did not choose, which she did 
not contend for— which came to her by inheritance. 

"I have not, on this occasion, uttered a word in praise of the Catholic 
Church. If I had been one of her sons, I should have given her such a trib- 
ute, as full of gratitude as of truth. But, as it is, this might seem like 
adulation, and she does not need to be patronized by me." 

During the last fifteen years of the existence of the Missions, 
the Mexican population of California was considerably increased, 
and had become very influential with the home government. 



12 PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 

Prominent citizens among them entered into active intrigues to 
overthrow the Missionary system, seeing in its destruction for- 
tane and power sure to fall into their own hands. Of this class 
Mr. Dwindle saj's : 

"This new class of adventurers, characterized by the exuberance of their 
noses, their addiction to the social game called monte, and the utter fearless- 
Uiss with which they encountered the monster aguadiente, were both con- 
stant and consistent in their denunciations of the monks who had charge of 
the Missions. They were accused of being avaricious, these poor monks who 
had taken the vow of perpetual poverty. They were said to be indolent; 
Ihey who roused themselves at the morning Angeius, Summer and Winter, 
and to whom the evening Angeius was only a signal that their evening task 
was only begun and not ended." 

From this time forward there were two political parties in 
California — one sided with the Missionaries ; the other sought 
their overthrow. The anti-Mission party, as it might be termed, 
was finally and completely successful in 1845. Then came a 
general scramble for the property belonging to the Missions, 
with a shameless disregard for the rights of the Indians. They 
were robbed of everything — land and all, and sent adrift with- 
out a place to lay their heads. The Mexicans divided up their 
lands among themselves, allowed the Indians to put miserable 
shanties in the neighborhood of the houses of the new owners of 
the land, and gave them employment at almost nominal wages. 
Every Saturday night the pittance allowed them was paid — 
mostly in whiskey. The consequence was, that the Indians lay 
drunk until Monday morning, when they were kicked out to 
work by their self-constituted masters. When we came to Cali- 
fornia, in 1849, this was the almost universal condition of the 
Mission Indians. Is it surprising, then, that the whole Indian 
community, once so industrious and happy, should, under this 
new sysLem, have sunk to the lowest depths of degradation, and 
soon almost disappeared from the face of the earth. Nor is it 
surprising that the community, the race who robbed and plun- 
dered these poor human beings, depriving them of their daily 
wages, and crowding them by scores, drunk, into their graves, 
should now themselves be fast passing away. Yes; one by one, 
they disappear. Where now are those Mexicans and Califor- 
nians who in 1849 owned their four, five and ten league ranchos, 
and immense herds of stolen Mission cattle? Yes; where are 
they now ? No one can answer, for no one knows. The destruc- 



PIOXEEn TIJIES IX CALIFORNIA. l3 

tioii of the Indians, which the}- accomplished, was onh' a fore- 
shadowing of their own fate. I will conclude these remarks on 
the Missions by quoting Miss Skidmore's beautiful little poem, 
delivered at the Centennial celebration already spoken of : 

'Tis well to ring the pealing bells, 

And sing the joyous lay, 
And make this glad Centennial year 

One gleeful gala-day; 
For Freedom's sun, that floods the land 

"With Summer's golden glow, 
Dawned brightly on the night of gloom. 

One hundred years ago. 

And dwellers in this favored land. 

Beside the "Western Sea, 
Be yours an added thrill of joy, 

A two-fold jubilee! 
For ^swett and strange coincidence) 

The bright, beni,^uant glow 
Of Faith dispelled a deeper gloom. 

One hundred years ago. 

All honor to our noble sires-— 

The tried and true-souled band — 
Whose valor loosed the Gordian knot 

That bound their native laTid ! 
Who criished the tyrant's haughty host 

And laid his standard low. 
And bade the Starry Banner wave. 

One hundred years ago! 

All honor, too, and deathless fame 

Unto the brown-robed band, 
Whoso hands released from fetters dread 

Our glorious Golden Land ! 
Who gained a bloodless victory 

Against the demon foe. 
And lifted high the Cross of Faith, 

One hundred j-ears ago! 

The sons of Francis journeyed far 

From wave- washed llonterey, 
To labor where his saintly name 

Had blessed our shining Bay. 
And well those holy toilers wrought 

To bid Faith's harvests glow 
And Truth's sweet vineyards ripen fair, 

One hundred years ago, 



14 PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 

Nor San Francisco saw alone 

That fondly toiling band; 
Their Missions blest in'^l laany a spot 

Within our favored land. 
And Peace Divine, at their behest, 

Here arched her Sacred Bow 
From North to South, from East to West. 

One hundred years ago. 

And not alone one chosen clime 

Obeyed this meek control; 
In Earth's remotest realms they wrought 

To tame the savage soul. 
From many a land that wondrous band 

Had chased the fiendish foe. 
Long ere they won meek Conquest here, 

One hundred years ago. 

How blest the Children of the Wild 

Beneath their gentle sway! 
Not theirs the harsh command that bids 

The trembling slave obey. 
Not theirs the stern, despotic tone, 

The tyrant's cruel blow; 
By love the meek Franciscans ruled, 

One hundred years ago. 

Ah! well the ransomed savage loved 

The kind, j)aternal care 
That with his simple joys could smile, 

And in his sorrows share; 
That could the blessed Baptism give, 

The Bread of Life bestow, 
And cheer the darksome vale of Death, 

One hundred years ago. 

Within the rude adobe shrine. 

What holy calmness dwelt! 
How fervent was the savage throng 

That round its altar knelt! 
How lowly bowed the dusky brows. 

When, through the sunset glow. 
Bang out tho sweet-toned Angelus, 

One hundred years ago ! 

Pure, Eden-like simplicity, 

Forever j)assed away! 
For, o'er the Missions came at last 

A fierce, tyrannic sway; 



tlONEER TMES IN CALlPORNiA. 16 

And sacrilef^ious hands could dare 

To strike, with savage blow, 
The band that brought Salvation's boons, 

One hundred years ago. 

But we, who know how rich the gift 

That holy band bestowed 
Upon the laud where stranger hosts 

Since made their fair abode; 
Aye, we who hail the beams of Faith 

In radiant noonday glow, 
Will fondly bless the dawn that rose 

One hundred years ago. 

O Sovereign City of the West! 

Enthroned in royal state. 
Where bows the Bay his shining crest 

Within thy Golden Gate! 
Thou'lt ne'er forget, though o'er thy heart 

Vast living current^ flow. 
The herald steps that trod thy soil. 

One hundred years ago! 

And, though the lofty steeples rise 

From many a sunlit hill, 
Where through the air, at dusk and dawn, 

The sweet bell-voices thrill, 
Thou'lt fondly prize thy Mission shrine, 

For o'er its portal low 
First rose the Cross and rang the chime 

One hundred years ago! 



CHAPTER II. 

"RKFLECTIONS" OF THE "ANNALS"— THE FUTURE OF THE AMERICAN REPUB- 
LIC—OUR TRUE POLICY— THE LONDON TIMES AND THE CIVIL WAR 

The authors of the " Annals," in closing their history of the 
Missions, on page 54 of that book, give us some of their " reflec- 
tions " as to the future of the American nation, which we find 
hard to pass without comment. That the manifest destiny of 
this nation of ours is to gather under the protection of its wise 
and benign government every foot of territory of this great con- 
tinent, no reflecting person can question. That all the inferior 
and weak races now found on it are destined to pass away and 
disappear, there is not a shadow of doubt. But how is this to 
come to pass? The " Annals " talk as follows: 

" Indians, Spaniards of many provinces, Ilawaiians, Japanese, Chinese, 
Malays, Tartars and llussians must all give place to the resistless flood of 
Anglo-Saxon or American progress. « « # * 

" The English in India have already shown how a beginning may be made; 
the Americans on the California coasts and farther icest will still more de- 
velop the modern system of progress. People may differ in oiDinion as to 
the equity of the particular steps attending the process. * * * 

" Even while we write its extensive dominions are being separated by a 
widespread and hitherto successful rebellion into detached kingdoms, under 
the svay of military chiefs. These, standing alone, and mutually jealous of 
their conquevinti neighbors, may he easily played off one against aiiother hy a 
white people skilled euoiigh to take advantage of the circumstances, and 
direct the moves of the political chess-board. So it was with the English 
in India, and so it may be with the Americans in China. Only give us 
time. England has not been very scrupulous in her stealthy progress over 
Hmdostan, Ceylon and Burmah. Then neither need Americans fear her 
reproaches if they, in like manner, acquire, conquer or annex the Sandwich 
Islands, those of the great Malayan Archipelago, or the mighty "Flowery 
Empire" itself. A few years and a few millions of Americans may realize 
the gigantic scheme. ^ * * ^^j ^-^^^ g^^^ Francisco, in the ex- 
ecution and triumph of that scheme, will assuredlj' become what Liverpool, 
or even London, is to England, and what New York is to the Middle and 
Easteru States of America, j' # i» * * * 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 



11 



" Long before that time, the English and American people will havo fin- 
ished the last great struggle, which must some day take place between them, 
for the commercial and political supremacy of the world. It is more than 
probable that tho hosts of English from India and Americans from Califor- 
nia will meet on the rich and densely-populated plains of China, and there 
decide their rival pretensions to universal dominion." 

Are we American republicans to acquire territory in this way ? 
Are we to do, as they say the English have done, cross the wide 
ocean in quest of conquest and booty, embroiling simple and 
unsuspecting nations in feuds and wars — "playing off one 
against another," in the way the authors of the "Annals" so 
much admire — until these people become an easy prey to pil- 
lage and robbery, with cruelty beyond belief? 

My young readers, rfecall to your memory the history of this, 
your great young republican nation, and see if you can find in 
any one })age of it a warrant for the implications in the above 
quotation: that we could so forget our great mission, assigned 
to us so plainly by Providence, of building here, on the virgin 
soil of tliis continent, a secure and happy home for the people of 
all the earth to fly to when down-trodden and oppressed by their 
own selfish and tyrannical governments. The centennial year ' 
finds us in possession of more than six times the extent of terri- 
tory we had at the close of the War of Independence. Have we 
acquired a single acre of this great addition with the sword? 
It is our glory to be able to say we have not. "We acquired 
Louisiana and the immense extent of country in the valley of 
the Mississippi by purchase from France; the Floridas in the 
same way from Spain; Texas had acquired her own indepen- 
dence and existed some years as an independent state before we 
admitted her into our Union. "When Mexico made war on us 
for admitting Texas our armies drove hers before them, until 
General Scott found himself at the head of a victorious army in 
the Cits' of Mexico. The whole country lay at our feet, yet 
what did we do ? Did we do as Germany did to France under 
like circumstances, annex some of her states and then lay her for 
years under contribution, grinding down her people with taxa- 
tion? No; we bought California and New Mexico from the con- 
quered people, and paid for them with gold. Alaska we bought 
from the Russian government. Do we have to keep a standing 
army to hold all this vast territory? No; not a single man. If 
we did, the territory would be worthless to us, and we would 

not retain it, against the will of its own people, a single year. 
2 



18 PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 

We have got nearly half this continent to bring under our 
flag. Will our American Congress ever sanction our drawing 
the sword to do this? No; our past history and the genius of 
our institutions forbid it. We will gradually and surely acquire 
every acre of it, but our means will be peaceful and truly Amer- 
ican. We will keep on in the even tenor of our way — with our 
free churches, with our system of encouraging universal educa- 
tion, with our great national mottoes always in sight, upon 
which may be said to rest the whole structure of our govern- 
ment : " Equal and exact justice to all;" " The greatest good to 
the greatest number;" " Freedom to worship God according to 
the dictates of conscience." 

Who can doubt but that the moral influence of a government 
thus guided will soon cause State after State to glide quietly 
into our Union, where they know they will be received as sisters 
and equals, to share with us all the blessings of such a govern- 
ment ? Is this the sort of government or people that the authors 
of the " Annals " see in their visions of the future of our coun- 
try, when they see us crossing the great ocean to imitate Eng- 
land's infamous and treacherous tactics of hatching out inveter. 
ate hates in the midst of nations, so that when, maddened to 
half insanity, brother will strike down brother, leaving the insti- 
gator of the strife to flap her dark wings over the bloody field of 
slaughter she inaugurated, and, like all foul birds of prey, there 
to glut herself on the spoils such contests are sure to bring her ? 
No, my young readers ; let us rather see in our visions of the 
future of the Republic, a united continent under one national 
banner, so powerful in its physical resources and means of de- 
fence as to insure its safety against a united world of enemies; so 
just, so wise in* its dealings with the people of the earth as to 
challenge universal admiration ; so true and faithful to its early 
history and our great national mottoes as to inspire confidence 
in the most skeptical. Then we see in this vision of the future 
a nation with influence and power that will drive tyrants and 
tyranny from the earth, without shedding one drop of blood, or 
bringing sorrow to a single household. That influence and 
power will be felt the world over, hated by injustice and tyranny, 
loved and extolled by justice and virtue. England will then 
drop her bloody sword in the Indies, and cease her plundering 
of those Eastern nations ; and forego at home her injustice to 



tlONEEE TIMES IN CALIFOBNIA. 19 

Ireland. Then will Poland resume her place as a nation of free- 
men. Yes; in the shadow of our moral influence and power, all 
this will come to pass. The flag of the nationalities will every- 
where be unfurled, to the dismay of all wicked, robbing nations. 

This vision is no phantom; everything points to its realization. 
Already our influence begins to show itself throughout the world 
and has struck the shackles from many a fettered limb, and un- 
locked the door of many a cruel prison. 

True to the tactics so much admired by the authors of the 
"Annals," England for fifty years fanned the flame of discord in 
our country, by urging on the freemen of the North against the 
slave power of the South. Success seemed to crown her efforts, 
for the time came when brother cut down brother with the fury 
of madmen; but no sooner had the terrible struggle commenced 
than England changed her position, and is now found on the 
side she before denounced; in every possible way she aids those 
in arms against the Union, hoping soon to see the scattered frag- 
ments of the proud young republic at her feet. Great was her 
disappointment for what she helped to bring about, for a wicked 
object ended in making this republic ten times more powerful 
than it was before. It removed forever a terrible evil from our 
midst, and with it the only question that could divide us section- 
ally, and endanger our union as one nation. Besides, it mani- 
fested to the world our immense resources and power, the extent 
of which we did not until then ourselves know. 

When the civil war commenced the London Times concluded 
a long article on the "American question " by declaring that 
" England could send a fleet into Chesapeake Bay and dictate to 
both North and South terms of peace." At the close of the war, 
when Grant and Sherman led their great victorious armies to 
Washington for a general review, the same paper, in an article 
on Canada, concluded by declaring " that the question of the 
final position of that country was now decided, and that if 
Canada did not want to join the American Union, she must her- 
self keep out of it, for that it was now evidently absurd to sup- 
pose that England could, by force of arms, oppose the action of 
ihe American government on their own continent," 



CHAPTEB III. 

THE CONQUEST OF CALIFORNIA— THE ABSURD ACCOUNT OF IT GIVEN IN THE 
" ANNALS " —EXAGGERATIONS AND MISSTATEMENTS— STOCKTON, KEARNY 
AND FREMONT— STOCKTON'S MARCH TO LOS ANGELES— HIS RECEPTION AT 
SAN FRANCISCO— HIS ALLEGED PROJECT OF INVADING MEXICO— SECOND 
REDUCTION OF CALIFORNIA. » 

The next i^art of tlie "Annals" worthy of note is the history 
it gives of " The Conquest of California." This account is im- 
mensely amusing to us '49-ers, who have conversed with so many 
native Californians and Americans who were personally actors 
in the scenes of those days, to read over this "history." As 
given in the " Annals," you see that the authors are tired of the 
belittling process they so freely indulged in while giving their 
account of the Missions, and now, borrowing the gasconade 
style from our Mexican neighbors, proceed to the work of making 
their readers believe that the reduction of California to American 
rule was one of the most sanguinary and terrible struggles of 
modern times, when our gallant, heroic leaders met giants in 
power, all splendidly equipped for war, who fought for their 
firesides, their altars, their wives and children, with the ferocity 
of enraged tigers guarding their young; showing on every battle- 
field by their undaunted courage that they held life as worthless 
if victory did not strew her laurels around their banner. 

The authors of the " Annals" seem to have one object steadily 
in view in their narrative — the exaltation of Commodore Stock- 
ton, which would be harmless but that they do it at the expense 
of equally deserving and brave men. Colonel Fremont comes 
next, in their estimation, as deserving of praise. The gallant 
General Kearny, however, was a failure out here in California, 
if we are to believe the authors of the "Annals." The history 
begins by introducing Colonel Fremont. In doing so they say : 

"Col. John C. Fremont is generally considered the conqueror of Califor- 
nia. While his exploits, undertaken with so small a force and against such 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFOENIA. 21 

superior numbers, place him on a par with the famous heroes of the days of 
chivalry, yet to the noble, daring and energetic measures adopted and 
prosecuted by Commodore Robert F. Stockton, as we shall hereafter see, 
may fairly be attributed the final reduction of the country." 

Commodore Stockton is introduced as follows: 
"Commodore Eobert F. Stockton arrived at Monterey, on the frigate 
'Congress' on the fifteenth day of July, 1846, and on the 23d of that 
month assumed the command of the squadron, Commodore Sloat having 
left on that day, to return to the United States. The hold and comprehensive 
mind of Stockton perceived at once the circumstances by which he was sur- 
rounded. He was deeply impressed with the grave and important trust that 
devolved upon him. He was not dismayed nor perplexed with the import- 
ance of his mission nor the difficulties he was compelled to confront; with a 
decision of character,, promptitude and sagacity worthy of commendation, 
he adopted a plan of campaign, which, if judged by its results, is unsurpassed 
in the most brilliant records of military achievements. 

Then comes an account — full of exaggeration, and so extrava- 
gant and absurd that it is not even amusing — of Stockton's chase 
after the Californians down the coast, with whom he never fairly 
caught up, and that was not his fault, for they took right good 
care to keep out of his reach . At length he finds himself in un- 
disputed possession of Los Angeles, without a battle, or the loss 
of a single man. Now, hear our authors, in their account of this 
expedition, and I will only quote the last part of it : " The con- 
ception of such an expedition into the heart of an enemy's unknown 
country with a force composed principally of sailors unaccus- 
tomed to the fatigues and hardships of a long march, to encoun- 
ter an opposing enemy, of vastly superior numbers, upon their 
own soil, in defence of their own country, well armed and the 
best horsemen, and mounted on the ^ines^ horses in the world," 
equals the most intrepid courage, indomitable energy , fertility of re- 
source and self-reliance, such as we find only combined in minds 
of the highest order and charsLcterB cast in heroic moulds. Yes; 
despite of all the difficulties which he had to encounter, in the 
language of the dispatch to the Government: " In less than one 
month from the time he assumed command he had chased the 
Mexican army more than one hundred miles along the coast, pur- 
sued them into the interior of their own country, routed and dis- 
persed them, and secured the territory to the United States; 
ended the war, restored peace and harmony among the people, 
and put a civil government into successful operation." The 
authors then tell us that after Commodore Stockton left Los 



22 PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 

Angeles he went on a visit to San Francisco. This trip they des- 
cribe in characteristic language, as follows : " Everywhere, in 
his jjrogress throughout the country, the Commodore was greeted 
with an enthusiastic welcome, and hailed as the conqueror and 
deliverer of the country. At San Francisco the entire popula- 
tion of the place and the adjoining country, gave him a formal 
reception. Men, women and children marched in procession to 
low water mark to meet him, and addressed him in terms of the 
most exhaustive praise and admiration !" 

The success of Stockton in chasing the California rabble down 
the coast to Los Angeles seems to have so elated him, if we are 
to credit the authors of the " Annals," that he really believed 
himself to be some wonderful conqueror, for they go on to tell 
us that he now became possessed of the belief that he could over- 
run all Mexico with a handful of volunteers raised in California, 
out of its sparse population. Hear what our authors say on this 
point, and judge for yourselves if they meant it in ridicule or in 
sober earnestness. If in earnestness, then they must surely be- 
lieve they were writing their book for dunces. The probability 
is, however, that they misrepresented Stockton, and that no such 
scheme as they attribute to him ever entered seriously into his 
plans, for he was a man of uncommon good sense and excellent 
judgment. Here is what they tell us : " He conceived the most 
magnificent and bold design of recruiting a force of volunteers 
in California from among the American population then about 
settling in the territory, sailing with them to Acapulco, then 
starting across the continent to unite with the force of General 
Taylor, then, as he supposed, approaching the City of Mexico. 
Certainly, a more daring, brilliant and master stroke of military 
sagacity has never been conceived. It reminds us of the famous 
exploits of the most renowned heroes of modern and ancient 
times." If there ever was a vague idea in Stockton's mind of 
marching through Mexico with his sailors and volunteers, it was 
dissipated by the news which reached him, immediately after his 
arrival in San Francisco from Southern California. The news 
was that the Calif ornians had driven his men out of Los Angeles, 
and were vowing vengeance, and murdering every straggling 
American they could lay their hands on. There was no alterna- 
tive under those circumstances but to retrace his steps and do 
his work all over again. He knew the terrible heroes he had to 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFOBNIA. 23 

encounter, or, more properly speaking, to run after, but, noth- 
ing daunted, he summoned all his available forces, and sailed 
with them for San Pedro. 

He arrived there about the 23d of October, and landed his 
forces, "in the face of the enemy," as the " Annals" have it. 
The enemy, as a matter of course, fled; but Stockton was a little 
cautious, for some reason or other, and instead of following up 
the flying Californians, he re-embarked his men and sailed for 
San Diego. This town he found in possession of a few swag- 
gering Californians, who beat a hasty retreat, as usual, at sight 
of the Americans ! Then comes an account of Stockton's second 
reduction of California, in which two "terrible" battles were 
fought. The march through the country is described as follows, 
on page 120 of the " Annals:" 

" Their route lay through a rugged country, drenched with the Winter rain, 
and bristling with the lances of the enemy. Through this the Commodore 
led his seamen and marines, sharing himself, with the General at his side 
(Kearny), all the hardships of the common sailor. The stern engagements 
with the enemy derive their heroic features from the contrast existing in the 
condition of the two. The Californians were icell mounted and lohirled their 
flying artillery to the most convenient positions. Our troops were on foot 
mired to the ankle, and with no resources, except thoir own indomitable res- 
olution and courage. Their exploits may be left in the shadow by the clouds 
that roll up from the plains of Mexico, but they are realities here, which im- 
press themselves with a force which reaches the very foundations of social 
order. ' ' 

If the last part of this quotation means anything, it means to 
say that all the battles fought by General Taylor and General 
Scott in Mexico were but as smoke when compared to the 
mighty battles fought by Stockton in California. Commodore 
Stockton may well exclaim, " Save me from my friends." The 
first opposition the Americans met with was at Kio San Gabriel. 
There the Californians made a futile efifort to dispute the passage 
of this stream, and, using the crest of a high cliflF, were enabled 
to annoy the Americans very much while they were engaged in 
crossing their guns. The crossing being effected, the Califor- 
nians, as usual, ran away; or, to speak more politely, retreated 
as fast as their horses could take them. This skirmish should 
be regarded as one of the greatest battles of the whole war, for 
the Californians succeeded in killing two sailors and woundiref 
T^ine others. The next day the Californians made a stand 



24: PIONEER TIMES IN CALirORNI\. 

the Plains of Mesa, about six miles from Eio San Gabriel, and 
all accounts agree that in this case they did make a sort of a 
little fight, in -which several Californians were wounded and 
many of them lost their mustangs. They did not suffer much, 
however, from the loss of horses, as those unhorsed and wounded 
soon found places behind those who were more fortunate, and 
very soon the whole motley rabble fled never again to reassemble, 
amid the loud cheering and boisterous laughter of the Americans. 
It is said that the Calif ornian commander never forgave Stock- 
ton and Kearny for allowing their men to indulge in this laugh- 
ing. They insist that it was a breach of good manners that 
gentlemen should not have been guilty of towards a fallen foe. 
It is said, also, that whenever these same Calif ornian command- 
ers proposed to one of their countrymen to raise another crowd 
to contend once more with the Americans, the party addressed 
immediately met the proposition with a loud laugh, intended to 
imitate the Americans' laughing on that day. So it may be said 
that the Americans in the end laughed California away from 
Mexico, as the old Whig party once sung the Democrats out of 
office and themselves into their snug j)laces. Now let me quote 
the "Annals'" account of this battle, just for your amusement: 

" The Californians made a gallant charge. It is said by those who wit- 
nessed it to have been a brilliant spectacle. Gayly caparisoned, with ban- 
ners flying, mounted on fleet and splendid horses (!!!), they dashed on, 
spurring to the top of their speed, on the small but compact square into 
which the American force was compressed. The very earth appeared to 
tremble beneath their thundering hoofs, and nothing seemed capable of 
resisting such cavalry. But inspired with the cool courage and indomitable 
heroism of their leader, his men patiently awaited the result. The signal 
was at length given, and a deadly fire, discharged according to orders at the 
horses, was poured into the ranks of the advancing foe, which emptied 
many saddles and threw them into complete confusion. Eetreating a few hun- 
dred yards, they again formed, and, dispatching a part of their force to the 
rear, they attacked simultaneously three sides of the square. Orders were 
renewed to reserve fire until the enemy's nearer approach, and with the same 
decisive results, their ranks breaking up and retreating in disorder. A third 
time, having rallied, they returned to the charge; but once more their ranks 
were thinned by the deadly aim of the assailed, and, despairing of their ability 
to cope with men so cool, unflinching, resolute — confused and discomfited, 
they scattered and fled in every direction." 

The three principal commanders in the reduction of California 
to American rule, Stockton, Kearny and Fremont, were as brave 
and gallant men as ever walked the deck of a ship in battle, or 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFOENIA. 25 

led an army on the field. Tliey stood in no need of all this 
bombast and absurd exaggeration at the hands of the authors of 
the "Annals." They captured every town that needed to be 
captured; they chased every army and rabble that it was neces- 
sary to chase and disperse; they killed every man that it was 
necessary to kill, which fortunately proved to be very few; they 
acted with consideration towards their own people, and with 
good faith, justice, and, in fact, with great kindness, to the 
native Californians. Not one tyrannical, selfish act has ever 
been laid to their charge; except, perhaps, as to Fremont in one 
case. It is asserted that he had the two De Harro brothers shot 
down while approaching him with a flag of truce. I sincerely 
hope that this charge may originate in some grave mistake, and 
may, on a thorough investigation, be found to be groundless, for 
it is the only solitary instance in which any of our commanders 
are charged with an objectionable act. As a rule, our command- 
ers showed great prudence and uncommonly good judgment, in 
all deserving well of their countrymen, and they have all been 
honored by them. The slurs of the "Annals " towards General 
Kearny fall harmless, for he was vindicated by his government, 
and honored by the whole people. It is a cause of just pride to 
us all that our government intrusted the woik here necessary to 
be done to such faithful and able commanders; but the fact that 
all this can be truly said, is no reason for misrepresenting the 
true state of the country at the time of its acquisition by our 
government. The history of the past must be the guide for 
future generations; therefore, it should be truly given. It is 
unworthy of Americans, and not like them, to indulge in boast- 
ful laudations of their own exploits. With them the simple 
truth of history in regard to their country is glorious enough, 
and is all they wish or ask to go on record. At the date of 
Stockton's arrival in California — July, 184:6 — the Mexican people 
of the territory were, as a whole, a poor, miserable race— ^mostly 
half-breed Indians — lazy, indolent and without any ambition, 
and terribly demoralized in their lives. The most of them were 
not only bad material for soldiers, but were absolutely deter- 
mined not to fight. There were men, of course — a nearly jDure 
blood Castilian class — who were altogether superior to the great 
mass of the population. They were, however, insignificant in 
number, when looked to as material for an army. Most of 



26 PIONEEK TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 

these families were in favor of continuing their connection with 
Mexico, because they knew that through that connection they 
gained their importance and rank over the Indians and half- 
breeds, and their means of living in ease and comfort. They 
were in favor of it, just as a business proposition, and not 
through national pride or any particular love of Mexico. On 
the contrary, they rather despised Mexico, and would long since 
have cut loose from her, if the connection had not paid them in a 
financial point of view. This being their position, they appear 
from the first to have made up their minds not to risk too much 
in the struggle with the Americans — certainly not their lives. 
Besides, they were wholly unprepared, and almost destitute 
of the necessary munitions and equipments for war. They had 
a few old, rusty, worthless cannon, taken from the Missions, a 
few long swords, in the use of which they were entirely un- 
skilled; but the swords were so few in number that their want 
of skill in the use of them made very little difference. They 
had carbines and pistols — few in number, however, mostly 
about such as were used by the brigands in the mountains of 
Europe one hundred years before. As to wagons or wheeled 
vehicles of any description, they may be said to have been 
wholly destitute; for all they had were the unwieldy Calif ornian 
carts, known among Americans as California steamers. The 
wheels of these carts were about two feet and a half in diameter, 
cut from the trunk of a sycamore tree, in one solid piece; each 
wheel weighing about three hundred pounds. To these carts 
were attached half wild California oxen, with the most primitive 
sort of harness. Such were their means of transportation. 

General Sherman, in his " Memoirs/' page 19, alludes to the 
want of all sorts of wagons in Monterey, in January, 1847, the 
date of his first arrival in California. He says: 

" Immediate preparations were made for landing, and, as I was quarter- 
master and corDmissary, I had plenty to do. There was a small wharf and 
an adobe custom-house in possession of the navy; also a barrack of two 
stories, occupied by some marines, commanded by Lieutenant Maddox ; and 
on a hill to the west of the town had been built a two-story block house of 
hewed logs, occupied by a guard of sailors under command of Lieutenant 
Baldwin, United States Navy. Not a single modern wagon or ox-cart was to 
be had in Monterey. Nothing but the old Mexican cart with wooden wheels, 
drawn by two or three pairs of oxen, yoked by the horns. A man named 
Tom Cole had two or more of these, and he came into immediate requisi- 
tion." 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALBPORNIA. 27 

Of all the absurd things that are told of in the " Annals " in 
relation to the conquest of California, the most absurd is what 
they tell us of California horses. They talk of them as the 
"finest horses in the world," and of the California cavalry as 
"the finest mounted cavalry in the world;" when the fact is, 
that this race of California horses is the most miserable and 
contemptible known to exist in the world. They are a sort of 
mustang- breed, with neither strength, long endurance nor size. 
Their general color is a wornout, muddy mixture of all coJors. 
They are intractable, unreliable — being almost in their natures 
untamable — and have to be subdued and broken in after every 
short rest given to them. They are utterly unfit for draught 
purposes, and were seldom or never used for such by the Cali- 
fornians. They were used for horseback riding altogether. A 
Calif ornian would catch one of these mustangs out of the herd, 
bridle hitn with a Mexican bridle, that has a bit so severe that 
he can break the jaw of the animal, if he wishes. He saddles 
it with a saddle that has a cincha, or girth, so contrived that 
he can draw it tight enough to break in the animal's ribs, if he 
sees fit to do so. He then rigs himself with a pair of Mexican 
spurs, that have barbs three or four inches long in the rowels, 
with which he can tear out the bowels of his horse. Then, taking 
his riata in his hand, he leaps on the unfortunate brute and 
spurs it on at the top of his speed, without feeling or mercy, for 
the next four or five days; in all that time scarcely giving it a 
bit to eat. When so worn out as to be unable to carry its rider 
a mile further, the bridle and saddle are taken off, and the ani- 
mal turned back into the herd — the mouth all lacerated and sore, 
the flanks streaming with blood, and the body swollen from the 
saddle. Then another animal is taken from the herd, to be 
treated in exactly the same way. This was the universal treat- 
ment horses received in California before the American rule, 
and it is not surprising, therefore, that such treatment and 
brutality produced the miserable stock of horses we found the 
Californians in possession of when we came to the State in 
forty-nine. The California mustang is not even a respectable 
apology for the noble animal we distinguish as a horse. Hap- 
pily, the California Legislature has taken the matter in hand, 
and by judicious enactments secured the extinction of the whole 
miserable breed. 



28 PIONEER TIMES IN CALIEOENIA. 

Now, what did the California army itself consist of? From 
the way the " Annals " speak of the California forces, one would 
be led to suppose that those armies consisted of splendidly 
drilled cavalry regiments, well mounted, well clothed, well fed, 
and well armed. The truth is, however, that there was no such 
thing as a well drilled comj)any of a hundred men, at any time, 
in the service of the California leaders. There may have been 
three or four hundred men, on one or two occasions, who were 
willing to fight and do their duty as soldiers; but, taken as a 
whole, the forces under the command of the California generals 
consisted of all the vaqueros throughout the country, gathered 
together by the call of the leading Californians to assist in 
driving the Americans out of the country, which they were per- 
fectly sure they could do by a show of numbers, without striking 
a blow. They were undrilled, and unarmed to a great extent; 
but they had great reliance on their riatas, and a good deal more 
on the fleetness of their mustangs, in case they should find it 
necessary to retreat, or, in plain English, to run away. The 
generals found them plenty of beef and frijoles; so every young 
Californian and strolling Indian, in the whole country, mounted 
his best mustang and went to the war, just as he would have 
gone to a frolic or a fandango. 

When the Americans came in sight, though they were few in 
number — not over four or five hundred, perhaps, at any one time 
— yet this number astonished the vaqueros, for they had never 
seen so many Americans together before. The first sight was 
generally enough for most of them; and well regulated little de- 
tachments of four, five, and sometimes ten or twenty, were soon 
seen on the retreat — rather fast, too. When the Commander re- 
monstrated with some of these parties, they coolly declared that 
they " had only gone on a pasear, that they had much business 
at home requiring their immediate attention," and after thank- 
ing the General, in the most polite terms (politeness is a charac- 
teristic of all Californians) for the entertainment he had given 
them, bade him adieu, telling him at the same time to " be sure 
to drive the Americans out of the country, for they were a very 
bad people." When deserted in this way, the generals, colonels 
and captains had nothing to do but to mount their handsomely 
caparisoned mustangs, fold their graceful and beautifully orna- 
mented cloaks around their shoulders, and with dignity retreat 
before the triumphant Americans. There were many other bat- 



HONEER TIMES IN CALIEOENIA. ^9 

ties in this war of subjugation the " Annals" are silent on; but 
tliey were all of the same insignificant character. In connection 
with them there were manj' ludicrous instances, which, if I had 
space to relate, would enable one to enjoy a hearty laugh. The 
desire of all who have heretofore written of this California war 
to manufacture something grand and imposing out of its con- 
duct has prevented the unvarnished truth from ever finding its 
way into print. If the history of this war was faithfully written 
out, it would give us a most amusing as well as interesting vol- 
ume. In such a volume should appear Colonel Fremont's cap- 
ture of San Eafael. In the report of the War Department, the 
capture of this town figures as one of the great exploits of mod- 
ern times. The truth was about as follows : Colonel Fremont 
had collected a handful of followers on a hill not far from the 
old Mission of San Eafael. He wished to make the Mission his 
headquarters; so, with a drum and fife, he marched his forces 
and took possession of the main buildings of the Mission, meet-' 
ing with no resistance whatever. At this time there was no 
resident priest at the Mission, and only a few straggling Cali- 
fornians, who called it their home. These withdrew on Fre- 
mont's appearance; there were just two white men residents — 
Don Timothy Murphy, an old Irishman, who had been on this 
coast for many years, and old man Black, an American, also an 
old-time pioneer. These two friends were found by Colonel 
Fremont's men seated on the porch of the old Mission building 
playing old-sledge. They had a jug of whisky between them, 
and the winner of each game had a right to take a drink, while 
the other had to remain dry. The victorious army of Fremont 
at once confiscated the whisky in the name of the United States. 
It is said that Murphy and Black, up to the time of their deaths, 
never forgave Fremont for this act of lawlessness in his men, 
and always declared their intention of having him court-martialed. 
If the reader will comj)are this true account with the official ac- 
count given of the capture of San Rafael, it will give a good idea 
of what the war of the conquest of California really was. The 
" Annals " say that " most of the California forces were cavalry." 
As a matter of course, every Californian rode a mustang, and a 
man who would agree to go to the field of battle on foot would 
have been deemed crazy and no soldier at all, for there was 
nothing the Californians felt a more soldierly pride in than the 
celerity of their retreats. In this sort of military movement 



30 PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 

they seldom lost a man. They had the "finest horses in the 
world," and were truly "the finest cavalry in the world," for 
just that one military movement. That the Californians should 
excel in this great act of war is not surprising, when we consider 
with what perseverance they practiced it, from the first day TVm. 
B. Ide raised the Bear Flag in Sonoma to the closing scene of 
the war south of Los Angeles. When the " Annals " talk of 
" flying artillery " and " the country bristling with lances," and 
"masked batteries," and the like, of course it is to be under- 
stood in a poetical sense, for they had no existence, except in 
the brains of the authors of the " Annals." 



CHAPTER IV. 

CONDITIONS WHICH MADE THE CONQUEST OF CALIFORNIA AN EASY ONE- THE 
MURDER OP FOSTER— THE TELL-TALE REVOLVER— THE VAQUERO'S STORY- 
CAPTURE OF MARIANA — HIS EXAMINATION — SUBSEQUENT ESCAPE-MR. 
BREEN'S STORY— THE OLD WOMAN AND THE DYING MAN— MR. BREEN AND 
THE MAN— THE MEXICAN'S CONFESSION— THE MURDER OF HIS AFFIANCED 
AND AN AMERICAN-DEATH OF THE CARY BROTHERS- THE MEXICAN'S MUR- 
DER OF HIS OWN FRIEND— HIS REMORSE- FATHER ANZER'S VISITS— THE 
BURIAL— OTHER MURDERS. 

Besides the miserable plight the Californians found themselves 
in, for making a successful stand against the Americans, when 
Stockton began his work of subduing the country, there were 
other causes which helped the Americans. Nearly all the Mis- 
sionary Fathers who yet remained in the State were glad to see 
Mexican rule go down, as they believed their chance for relig- 
ious freedom was much better under the flag of the United 
States than under that of Mexico; so they everywhere threw their 
influence to prevent resistance to the Americans. Then there 
were several prominent Americans married to daughters of lead- 
ing Californians, which had a great influence with those families 
to privately si^e with the Americans. As a general rule, the 
California women liked the Americans, and this was no small 
help towards reconciling the native Californians to their new na- 
tional connection. However, the good judgment with which our 
generals treated the Californians wherever they obtained power 
over them, did more to induce the whole people to quietly acqui- 
esce in the new order of things, than all the other causes taken 
together; and it is no vain boast to say that in the history of the 
world there never was a conquered people so friendly with their 
conquerors after the contest was ended, as were the native Cali- 
fornians with the Americans at the close of the war. Their 
intercourse has ever since been of the most friendly and kindest 
character. In this remark, of course, I allude to the well edu- 
cated, intelligent class, who were the governing people under 



32 PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 

Mexican rule, and not to the low, ignorant, thieving vagabonds, 
who for years afterwards tormented the country by their villainies 
and who had not the courage to meet the Americans in fair fight, 
during the war, while hating them with the bitterest intensity. 
At the hands of these villains many a lonely traveler met a 
bloody fate. This was particularly so in the lower or rural 
counties, along the coast from San Francisco to Los Angeles, 
where the American population was small and sparse. Two, 
three, and sometimes five, of these desperate spirits would bind 
themselves with a solemn oath of fidelity to each other, and 
of vengeance against all Americans. Their practice was to lie in 
wait on the most traveled roads to and from San Francisco, and 
to the other large towns of the State, and rob and murder all 
who fell unprotected into their hands. But, not satisfied with 
this slow way of reaching victims worth robbing, they often 
came to San Francisco, Sacramento, or Stockton; and with cun- 
ning and adroitness, would seek out some American who had 
been lucky in the mines, and had, therefore, plenty of "dust." 
They would then ingratiate themselves into such a man's favor, 
by obliging him in many small ways, and after gaining his con- 
fidence, would propose to him some very profitable speculation — 
generally of buying cattle in the southern part of the State — 
where they would pretend to know of a band of fine fat cattle, 
which could be bought for almost a song. The unwary Ameri- 
can, often and often, fell into this trap. Suspecting no treachery, 
he would pack up his gold, and trust himself and it to the pre- 
tended friend, to lead the way to the cheap cattle in the far-oflf, 
lonesome south. Months and months would pass before the first 
suspicion would arise as to the fate of the cattle sjaeculators, 
who had never returned, and then no one had time to think, or 
say much, about the circumstance. This was the fate of many a 
man in '49, '50, and '51. At last, an undefined sort of a feeling 
of mystery and suspicion spread through the community as to 
the strange fact that so many Americans who went south for 
cattle never returned. This aroused an alarm that effectually 
destroyed all confidence in Californians as guides to the lower 
country for cattle. In one instance I knew of, the murderers 
were discovered, though the princij^al one escaped punishment. 
I will relate this circumstance from memory; and, as it is a long 
time ago, I may possibly make some mistakes, but not in the 
main facts. It was related to me in 1852, by Mr. Riddle, a 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 33 

friend of the murdered man, then living- on the Tuolumne river. 

Savage and Foster were partners in the cattle business, and 
lived near Stockton in 1849 and '50. They purchased small 
bands of cattle, as they could find them, and furnished the 
butchers of Stockton and the neighboring mining camps with 
beef cattle, as they might require them. They made money fast 
in this business. 

There was a Mexican, known by the name of Mariana, who 
lived mostly in Stockton at this time, in the same business. 
He seemed always to have money at his command, and often 
joined Savage and Foster in these trips looking up fat cattile, 
buying little bands on his own account for the Stockton market. 
He took great pains to ingratiate himself into the good opinion 
of the American cattle men, and succeeded well. The}^ thought 
he was one of the very best of men, and were willing to trust 
him in any way. He had often told them of how cheap cattle 
could be purchased near Los Angeles, and at length proposed 
that one of the partners should take a trip with him, and get a 
large band of cattle at low prices in the lower country. The 
great profit to be made on such a trip induced them to accede to 
his proposition. So they collected all the money they could 
get together, some five or six thousand dollars, and Foster 
started with Mariana in pursuit of the enterprise, each taking a 
vaquero with him. Foster's vaquero was an American; Mariana's 
was a Californian. Savage remained in Stockton, but heard 
nothing from his partner after his departure. In some two 
months Mariana came back to Stockton with a fine band of cat- 
tle. When met by Savage he expressed great astonishment that 
Foster had not got home. He then went on to say that when 
they reached Los Angeles, Foster, hearing of a band of cattle 
further south that were offered very cheap, insisted, contrary to 
his (Mariana's) advice, in going to see them. So they parted, 
while he himself went to the rancho they had originally started 
for, bought his cattle, and started with them up the coast, sup- 
posing Foster had taken his cattle by the Tulare county way, 
which would be the shortest for him if he got the cattle he went 
for. He, therefore, expected to find Foster at home before him. 
This all seemed plausible enough; so matters rested, and no one 
had the least suspicion of foul play. No Foster came, however, 
and all began- to give him up, and could not account for his dis- 
appearance. Savage one day sauntered into Mariana's camp, 
3 



34 PIONEER TIMES IX CALIFORXIA. 

or sliantr, as he had ofteu clone before, when, to his astonish- 
ment, he saw lyiuy on the table before Mariana, a beautiful silver 
mounted revolver belonging to himself, which he had lent Fos- 
ter the day they parted. This pistol was presented to Savage 
by a brother of his, and this fact Foster knew, and promised to 
be very careful of it, and return it safeh*. A new light flashed 
on Savage's mind the moment he saw the pistol; but, concealing 
his feelings, he said, carelessly, as he took up the revolver, 
" Why, this belonged to Foster.'' Mariana gave a suddeu start; 
but, instantly recovering himself, he said, " Oh, yes; I gave a 
big price for it to Foster. I gave him a hundred and fifty dol- 
lars. It is not worth it, but I took a fancy to it, and he would 
not sell it for less." '' That was a good price for it, sure onough," 
said Savage, in the same careless voice; and as he spoke he 
walked out of the shanty. He walked slowly at first, but then 
quickened his pace, and just as he did so he involuntarily 
turned half round and looked back at the shanty, and there 
stood Mariana leaning out of the door, evidently watching him, 
and as Savage looked back he at once Avithdrew out of sight. 
"Ah!" said Savage, " I fear he knows I suspect him, and was 
watching mj' motions. I am soriy I walked so fast. " Savage 
now, as quickly as possible, assembled some friends and told 
them what he had discovered. The majority thought it was best 
to take the matter slowly, and watch Mariana's movements. In 
pursuance of this idea, and to quiet any suspicions Mariana 
might have that he was suspected by Savage, no one went near 
his camp until late in the afternoon. Two of the party who 
were on the most friendly terms with Mariana then went to his 
camp, on the pretence of business, but to their surprise the 
shanty was locked, and on looking around they found both of 
Mariana's fine horses gone, and there was a something about the 
little house that said plainly, "You come too late; lam deserted." 
They now unhesitatingly broke open the door, and, on entering, 
found everything in confusion, as if the owner had just selected 
whatever was of much value and could be conveniently taken 
away, and abandoned everything else. Then there was great 
excitement among the Americans, and Savage remembered that 
the vaquero who was with Mariana at the time he left Stockton 
with Foster was yet in his employment, and now most likely 
with his cattle out on the plains a little beyond French Camp. 
So., five well mounted and well armed men were dispatched to 



tlONEEK TIMES IN CALIFORNU. 35 

find the vaquero, and they had some hopes of finding Mariana 
with him; but some feared that if he had really fied he had 
taken the vaquero, too; but in this respect they were mistaken, 
for they found the vaquero. They brought him to Stockton, 
and, on consultation with all the friends, they determined to try 
to extort from him a confession. So, placing a rope on his neck, 
they led him to a lonesome place outside the town, and threw 
the end of the rope over a limb of a tree, as if about to hang him 
from it. Up to this time the vaquero remained sullen and stolid 
in his whole way of acting; but, seeing death so close at hand, 
he addressed Savage, and asked what they were going to kill 
him for. Savage told him for helping Mariana to murder Fos- 
ter and his vaquero. He then said, " I know where you can 
find Mariana; and, if you do not kill me, I will tell you, and tell 
you all about Foster and his vaquero." There was now intense 
excitement to hear the fate of poor Foster and all the Californian 
had to communicate. So the promise of life was readily given, 
cautioning the wretch not to tell any lies, for that if he did so 
they would be sure to detect him, and in that case they would 
burn him alive. He agreed to these conditions, and said he 
could prove to them that all he Avas about to tell them was true. 
He had been placed standing on an old log, under the tree they 
were going to hang him from. Now, without asking to have the 
rope removed from his neck, he slipped down to a sitting posture, 
the rope still on the limb and yet in the grasp of determined 
men, who looked as if anxious for the signal that was to launch 
the poor wretch into eternity. It was a dark night, but one of 
the party had collected dried branches and lit up a fire, which 
soon threw its lurid glare over the vigilantes and their prisoner, 
as, with revolvers in hand, every one of them crowded around 
him in breathless silence to listen to his statement, which was to 
reveal the fate of Foster and his vaquero. His story was about 
as follows : 

" At about noon to-day Mariana came to the camp where I 
was taking care of the cattle, and told me that Savage had seen 
Foster's pistol, which he had just taken out of his valise for the 
first time since he got back from the lower country, and that^ 
from the way Savage looked and acted, he was satisfied that ho 
suspected him of murdering Foster, and that, on that account, 
he had made up his mind to leave the country for the present. 
He then told me that if he never came back, I could have the 



36 PIONEEB TIMES IN CALIFOENU. 

cattle I was liercliug for what he owed me, and the slianty and 
things in it, in Stockton, and then he handed me this bill of sale 
of everything, so that no one could dispute my title." As the 
vaquero said this, he drew from his shirt pocket a paper, written 
in Spanish, and handed it to Savage, and then continued: "Ma- 
riana then told me that if Savage or any of the Americans 
asked for him, to deceive them as long as possible, and give out 
that news had reached him from Mexico of his father's death ; 
and that he had to leave in great haste, but expected to be back 
in three months. I then asked him for some money, and he told 
me he was going to San Jose, where nearly all his money was 
deposited with a friend, and that he would leave three hundred 
dollars there for me. He then left me, taking the direct road 
to San Jose, and I believe he has gone there, for I know 
he usually did keep his money there." 

Now the vaquero paused, and seemed almost to choke as ho 
leaned his head forward, with forehead clasped in both hands. 
Recovering himself in a moment, he proceeded — not, however, 
until he was reminded of the necessity of doing so b}' a jerk on 
the rope, and an angry voice saj'ing, "Now tell us all about Fos- 
ter and his man." 

"The first da}' we left Stockton," he went on, "we did not go 
far. We camped about a mile after crossing the ferry on the 
San Joaquin river, where there was good shade and grass for our 
animals. After eating our evening meal, Foster and his vaquero 
lay on the grass asleep, and Mariana and I lay there also; but we 
did not sleep. After a little Mariana made a signal to me to fol- 
low him. He led the way into the tules for some distance, until 
we came to an open spot. Then he threw himself on the ground, 
and I also sat down. For the first time. I learned from him that 
he intended to kill the Americans, and take their gold. I did 
not want to have anything to do with it, and told him so. I said 
that Foster had alwa^'s treated me well, and I could not kill 
him. He swore at me; called me a coward; said it was no harm 
to kill an American; that they had stolen California from Mexico, 
and killing one of them was just the same as killing a man in 
battle. He said that all the gold in this country of right be- 
longed to the Mexicans, and that it was the duty of every 
Mexican to kill every American he could, and take all their gold. 
He said Foster had five thousand dollars in his valise, and that I 
should have half. So, after awhile, I agreed, and it was settled 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNU. 37 

that Mariana should keep close to Foster that night, and I close 
to his vaquero, and that, as they slept, Mariana was to give me 
a signal, and that we were both to strike with our knives at the 
same moment. I wanted to use our jsistols, but Mariana would 
not agree, because, he said, a cap might miss with either of us, 
and that, in that case, one or both of us would lose our lives. 
So it was all arranged, and, after looking at our knives, to see if 
they were all right and sharp, we returned to the camp. We 
found Foster sitting up, smoking a cigar. Mariana told him we 
had been looking for rabbits, but could find none. I thought 
Foster did not look satisfied, and several times found his eyes on 
me during the evening, as if he was suspicious. This, and the 
work we were to do that night, made me tremble with fear. 
Mariana appeared just the same as always, though he told me 
afterwards that he observed Foster looking at him very hard 
once or twice. Night came, and we went to sleei?, just as agreed 
on. Mariana pretended to sleep soundly, and so did I; but we 
were both wide awake, and we could see that Foster lay awake 
for a long time. At length sleep seemed to overpower him, 
though I thought I observed him struggling against it. Mariana 
now raised to a half sitting position, as was agreed on, and at 
this signal I was to do the same. Then Mariana was to raise his 
arm, and I was to do the same, but our hands were to have noth- 
ing in them. Then we were to lie back in our former position. 
Then, after waiting a few moments, Mariana was to do just as 
he had done before, and I was to follow; but this time we were 
to have our knives in our hands, with the blades concealed from 
sight in our sleeves. Then we were to lean forward, each over 
his man, and ]M*ariana, when ready, was to nod his head twice , 
and, if I returned his nod the second time, we were both to 
strike, and follow blow after blow until we were sure they were 
dead. On this night, I returned all Mariana's signals until it 
came to the last nod of his head, when to my astonishment I 
saw the vaquero's eyes wide open, staring at me. Instead of re- 
turning the nod, I put my hand on my stomach and pretended 
to be in a cramp. The American was lying with his face to- 
wards me, and had not seen any of Mariana's signals, nor had he 
seen the knife in my hand, for it was partly concealed in my 
sleeve, so he was deceived and believed me, and rose, saying he 
had some first-rate brandy a friend had given him, and that it 
would do me good. He brought the flask, and I took a good 



38 PIONEER TMES IN CALIFORNIA. 

long drink, which restored me to myself, for I shook with fear. 
He lit a cigar, and before he had finished smoking the day was 
dawning. As we were watering our horses that morning Mariana 
stood very near me, and, with his back to me, he said in a low 
voice, that I could scarcely hear, "We are watched; do not 
come near me to-day, or speak to me on any pretense; but an- 
swer my signals to-night just the same as you did last night, and 
make sure work of it, or our lives are not worth a real." With- 
out changing his i:)Osition, or waiting to hear if I had anything 
to sa}', he broke into a Spanish song he was in the habit of sing- 
ing, and when the horses were done drinking, walked to where 
Foster stood, and commenced a very pleasant conversation with 
him. At first I made up my mind that I would hang bp,ck, and 
run away where no one was observing me, but all that day I 
found Mariana's eyes on me, no matter where I turned. I then 
thought I would jDretend to be asleep that night and not see his 
signals; but just before we camped, Mariana rode up to me, as 
if to give me an additional riata to stake out my horse with, and 
us he leaned forward in his saddle to give me the riata, his lips 
seemed to shrink back from his teeth, giving his face a terribly 
fierce look, while he whispered, just between his teeth, 
"If we fail to-night, it will be your fault, and I will not 
die until I see your bones given to the buzzards to pick." 
I never saw such a devilish look before on his face, and I felt 
as if I dare not disobey him. So the night came. We were 
in the 2:)ass in the mountains, and all prepared their places 
to sleep, as on the preceding night; but now Mariana pretended 
to have a bad headache, and told us that such turns lasted him 
generally two days, and begged Foster to remain over one day, 
if he was not better in the morning, as he could not travel in the 
hot sun. To this Foster agreed, and the request undoubtedly 
threw him off his guard, for both he and his vaquero were evi- 
dently sound asleep. Early in the night Mariana gave the signal. 
I followed, as if in a dream, and as if I could not disobey. We 
both struck on his second nod. Mariana's blow went home 
through Foster's body, and, Avith one loud moan, he was dead. 
My arm was weak and trembling, and the blade of my knife 
struck against a silver watch in the vaquero's pocket, from which 
it glanced along the ribs and never entered the vitals. W^ith a 
bound the vaquero was on his feet, but his pistol and knife were 
both under his saddle, upon which his head rested for a pillow. 



PIONEER TIMES IX CALIFOKNU. 39 

He made a dash for them. Catching up the saddle, he flung it 
into my face, knocking my revolver out of my hand. He grasped 
his knife and revolver, but just as he raised them up a ball from 
Mariana's pistol brought him to the ground, and then Mariana's 
knife did the rest. 

"We dragged the bodies to a deep, dry arroyo, threw some 
brush and stuff on them, and, without waiting for daylight, sad- 
dled up and took all the horses and traps with us. Just after 
daylight we turned out of the trail, and camped. Here we 
burned up all the things belonging to the Americans that we did 
not want, and continued on our journey towards San Jose. 
There we made a halt, and Mariana told me he left Foster's 
money with a friend in that town until he should return, as he 
had enough of his own to purchase what cattle he wanted. He 
has, from time to time, given me money, but never much; and I 
have always been afraid he would kill me to get rid of me, and 
he would have done so, I know, but for his oath; for he once 
told me that with three others he took a solemn oath never to 
spare an A.merican whose life he could take without discovery, 
and never, on any account, to take the life of a Mexican." 

When the vaquero finished this terrible story, the crowd with- 
drew for consultation, and it was decided that four or five should 
prepare themselves and take the vaquero to the scene of the 
murder, and that another party should mount the best horses to 
be found in Stockton, and ride with all possible speed, that 
very night, for San Jose. The vaquero agreed to act as guide to 
the spot where poor Foster and his vaquero met their bloody 
fate. On reaching there, the remains of the Americans were 
found in the arroyo, as described by the vaquero. On returning 
to Stockton the vaquero was j)laced in jail until news should be 
received from San Jose. When the party which had gone to 
capture Mariana came within a few miles of San Jose they 
camped on the Coyote creek and waited for night to close in. 
In the darkness of evening they rode at full speed into the town 
and made directly for a Spanish gambling-house. In this way, 
before any one knew of their approach, they had surrounded the 
gambling-table in this establishment, and were not disappointed 
in finding Mariana; for there he sat, deej^ly interested in a game 
in which he had just ventured some hundreds of dollars. They 
soon made known their business; and, without resistance, 
marched Mariana off. Some of the party wanted to take him at 



40 PIOXEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 

once out of town and bang liini to the first tree that came in 
their way, but others urged to wait until they should hear that 
the remains of Foster and his vaquero were found, thus making 
sure of Mariana's guilt. Mariana protested innocence, and he 
had many friends in San Jose who besought moderation in his 
behalf. He was finally lodged in jail and safely guarded that 
night by the men who had arrested him. The next day he was 
taken out for examination before some judge or justice of the 
peace, and duly committed for trial; but, after his examination, 
on his way back to the jail, he made his escape from the officers, 
and was never recaptured. When my friend Riddle told me 
this story, he insisted that Mariana's escape was connived at by 
some of the San Jose officials, for which he said they were well 
paid. I have since been told that this charge was unjust; but 
w^hat the truth is I cannot pretend to sa}'. AVhen the jjeople of 
San Joaquin heard of Mariana's escape they were furious, and 
denounced the San Jose sheriff and his officials in no measured 
terms. In the excitement that ensued, they rushed to the jail 
and, taking out the vaquero, hanged him forthwith, in violation 
of the promises made him. 

Mr. Patrick Breen, a pioneer of 1846 or '47 from the State of 
Missouri, and who lived for many years in San Juan, Monterey 
county, where he has left a well raised and prosperous fam- 
ily to perpetuate his good name, related to me another circum- 
stance that will further illustrate the character of those days. It 
is now over sixteen years since Mr. Breen told me the story, so 
I do not pretend to use his language, but in substance it was as 
follows : 

MR. BREEN's story. 

Tery early one morning in the Summer of 1851, 1 was walking 
along the corridor in front of the old Mission building that joins the 
Mission Church, in San Juan. As I came to the west end of the 
building, I heard deep groans in one of the old dark rooms that 
opened on the corridor. The door was partly open, so I en- 
tered to ascertain the cause of the moans, or groans, I heard so 
plainly. In the back room I found a man, lying on a miserable 
bed, apparently in great pain. On a seat near the bed sat a very 
old woman, looking more like an Indian than a Californian. She 
was dark and shriveled, yet her eyes were bright and had not a 
bad expression. I addressed the old woman politely in the Ian- 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFOUXIA. 41 

guage of the country, asking what was the matter with the sick 
man, and if he was some friend or relative of hers. She answered, 
politely, that he was no relation of hers, but he was a sick coun- 
tryman, and she came to see if she could help him in any way. 
The man now turned his eyes towards me for a moment, and I 
thought there was almost a fierce light in them. He then beck- 
oned the woman to draw near. She did so, and leaned over 
him with her ear close to his lips. In a husky whispering, which 
I heard plainly, however, he said : " Tell that man to go away ; 
he is a cursed American." I did not pretend to hear, but waited 
for the old woman to speak. She turned to me and said that 
the sick man requested to be left alone. There was something 
about the appearance of the man that struck me strangely. He 
had evidently once been a fine looking man, but now his flesh 
had wasted from his frame; his eyes were large, bright and fierce, 
but death shone plainly in them. My curiosity was aroused to 
know something more about him ; so, as I turned to go, without 
speaking, I beckoned the woman to follow me to the corridor. She 
did so, and when there I asked her who the man was. She said : 
" It is no use now for any one to know, for he is dying ; but even 
now I dare not tell you until he is dead. He has been a terri- 
ble, bad man ; but now it is all over. In a day or two more he 
will no longer be of this world. He once helped me when I was 
in sore need of help. So I am bound to do all I can for him in 
return." " Has Padre Anzer been to see him?' said I. "No. 
"When I spoke to him of calling the Padre, he grew perfectly 
wild, so that I could hardly hold him in bed. He said such ter- 
rible things that frightened me, so that I have given up all 
hope. Oh !" said the old woman, clasping her hands in horror, 
"the devil surely owns him already, and will not let the Padre 
near him." I asked her if she had anything for him to eat, or 
money to get it with. She said he had not a dollar, and that he 
had asked her for some baker's bread, but that she had no money 
to get it, so she got him some of her home-made cakes, and fed 
them to him with a little milk she got from my wife. I then 
gave her a little money, and told her to tell the man that I would 
like to see him, as I was a sort of a doctor, and might do him 
good, and would charge him nothing. The woman shook her 
head, and said : " Oh ! he hates all Americans ; I do not think 
there is any use in asking him." I told her to try, anyway, and 
tell him that I was an Irishman. "Ah!" said she, " he hates 



42 PIONEER TIMES IX CALIFOKMIA. 

them, too ; but I will try." That afternoon the woman came and 
told me that the sick man would see me. I went two or three 
times to see him, but did not try to enter into any conversation. 
I contented myself with doing a few things for his comfort, and 
my wife gave him a couple of new flannel shirts, clean sheets and 
a blanket for his bed. He seemed to be sinking away in a low 
fever. I gave the old woman some lemons to make the necessa- 
ry cooling drink. On the second day, just as I was leaving his 
room, he told the woman to call me back. When I returned, he 
pointed to a chair near the bed, and then motioned to the 
woman to leave the room. When we were alone he asked me 
abruptly why I took any interest in him, and why I did not let 
him die like a dog. I said he was a human being, like myself, 
and I thought it was only right to relieve his sufferings, if I 
could do so ; and that that was the only reason I took any inter- 
est in him. " Have you any idea who I am?" " None in the 
least," said I, "nor do I care." ''• Well," said he, with a grim 
half smile on his face, " if you knew that you would not stay 
in the same room with me for one moment." As he spoke, there 
was a fearful, almost devilish expression in his eyes. I involun- 
tarily shrank away from him ; but, recovering myself, I said in 
a careless tone : "No matter what you have been, your day is 
now closing, and I have no right to be your judge, and I would 
like to help you in any way I could to die a penitent death." " A 
penitent death ! a penitent death !" he repeated, over and over, 
with a sort of a chuckling laugh. " There is no repentance for 
me now ; it is too late. It is all over. Hell is ready to receive 
me. Every night I see the fiends, who are to plunge me in, 
waiting for me. Oh, yes ; my hell has commenced, and your 
talk of repentance is humbug." I now thought I would 
assume a bolder tone, and see what effect it would have, so I 
said : " When you were a child you were baptized a Catholic 
Christian; why don't you send for Padre Anzer, and confess your 
sins to him, and ask him to pray for you that God would forgive 
you, and drive away those fiends you see near you now; and, 
perhaps, you would escape hell, after all ?" The Mexican rose 
up, in a half sitting posture, leaning on one elbow, while he 
stared wildly at me for two or thi-ee minutes. Then he said, 
"Why do you talk in that way? You have the American reli- 
gion, and yoa do not believe in priests, and yet you tell me to 
send for Padre Anzer. I see you are amusing yourself with my 



riOXEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 43 

misery, and you think I am too big a fool to see it." " You are 
mistaken, hombre. I believe, as all Christians do, no matter 
•what their denomination, that when we know ourselves guilty of 
great sins, we should ask good, pious persons to pray for us, so 
that God would be moved by their prayers to give us the grace 
to repent and sue for his forgiveness. Padre Anzer is a priest of 
the Church you, as well as myself, were baptized in; and, if I 
were in your place, I would send for him, and beg him to i^ray 
for me." As I finished speaking, he dropped his head on the 
pillow, but so that his face was downward, and covered from 
sight, while his hands were clasped on his ears. He groaned, 
as if enduring intense pains and torments of body or mind — or, 
most likely, both. After a few moments, he raised his head, and 
again fixed his terrible, wild, bright e3'es on my face, and said, 
in a wild, excited tone, " What a fool I was to listen to you talk- 
ing of God and His forgiving me. It only made the fiends mad, 
and they all showed themselves to me, and I heard an unborn 
child we murdered cry again. I tried to stop my ears, but it 
was no use ; and the fiend laughed, while I was obliged to listen. 
Yes ; and I saw young Cary's bloody hand just as he always ap- 
pears to me. No, no; do not sjjeak to me of God. Speak to 
me of hell. It is there I am going. I am almost there now." 
I was filled with horror at this allusion to terrible, inhuman 
crimes ; but somehow I hated to go off and have the wretch die 
in despair. So I sat perfectly still, undecided what to do, while 
he lay back on his pillow, with his eyes closed, breathing hard 
and fast. I watched him, and began to fear that his hour was 
come, and that his soul was passing away. But it was only one 
of his spasms. He suddenly opened his eyes, turned, and looked 
at me with a sort of vacant stare, as if he had just awoke from 
sleep. " Shall I call the woman?" said I. He did not answer 
for half a minute, then said: "Well, I see j'ou want to leave 
me ; you are right, you are right, you are right. Fly from me. 
I am a child of hell. You dare not listen to my history. If you 
did, you would see that no place but hell is fit for me." " I do 
not want to leave you; and I would do anything to help you, if you 
would listen to me, and do as I advise you. I tell you that you 
can save yourself from hell even now." He again arose to a half- 
sitting posture, and said, as he stretched out his head towards 
me : " The Americans are a great i:)eople — a wise people. Tell 
me, do you believe what you have just said ? Do not deceive a 
miserable, dying wretch. Do you, in truth, believe what you 



44 PIOXEER TIMES IN CALIFOENU. 

Lave just said?" " Of course, I believe it ; just as firmly as I be- 
lieve the sun rose this morning. If I did not, what would be 
the use of mj' giving you any advice on the subject?" "Will 
you listen to my histor}' ?" " I would rather not, except there 
is some object to be gained by my doing so." " "Well, I want 
just to tell you the worst part of it ; and then, if you think there 
is any possible chance — which I do not — of escaping hell, I will 
take your advice, and do just as you direct me." " "Well, on that 
condition, I will listen ; but now it is late, and getting dark. I 
will be here in the morning at 10 o'clock. Will that do ?" " Good ; 
I am satisfied, and you shall judge for yourself." At the ap- 
jDointed hour, next morning, I was seated by the Mexican's 
bed. He told the woman to leave, as he had done the previous 
evening. Then he reached out, and took from the table a bot- 
tle of California wine, and, placing it to his lips, drank more 
than half its contents, at one draught. Laying it down, he com- 
menced the terrible tale of his life, in which it appeared that his 
name was Nicholas Morano ; that he was born in Mazatlan, Mex- 
ico, of resi:)ectable parents, and was well educated ; that he came 
to California before his majorit}', and lived as a mercantile clerk 
in Los Angeles up to the war with the United States. He then 
joined the California forces, and remained with the army — if 
army it could be called — until after Stockton and Kearny had 
taken possession of Los Angeles, the second and last time. He 
then returned to his old employer, and soon after became de- 
votedly attached to a beautiful young California girl ; that, after 
the wedding day had been apjDointed his affianced proved faithless 
to him, flying from her father's house with a young American 
military ofiicer, who degraded, but did not marry her. Then he 
detailed how, burning with hate and jealousy, he watched for a 
chance to revenge himself on the American. At length his op- 
portunity came. He discovered the hiding place of the faithless 
girl — a little adobe house hid away in an orange grove on the 
outskirts of the town. Here, with a friend, he lay in wait until, 
just at night, the unsuspecting American approached. The two 
men sprang upon him. The American fought like a tiger. The 
girl rushed, screaming, to his aid, and joined in the fight with the 
fury of a wildcat. The struggle lasted but two or three minutes. 
Then Nicholas arose, covered with blood and without a wound 
worth naming. At his feet lay dead the American, his own 
friend and the unfortunate girl. He stooped over the form of 
his affianced, dropped on his knees beside her, raised her head. 



i?IONEEK TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 45 

but all sign of life bad fled. Blood was yet flowing from a knife 
wound in ber bosom. He drew from bis pocket a wbite Cbinese 
silk bandercbief, saturated it in tbe flowing blood, and tben, 
wbile yet on bis knees, be raised it up over ber lifeless form, and 
swore a solemn oatb never to make peace witb tbe Americans. 
Stooping as be spoke tbe last words of tbe fearful oatb, be kissed 
tbe cold wbite lips of tbe dead girl. Then be fled from approach- 
ing footsteps. He was suspected, and left Los Angeles. In 
Santa Barbara be found two congenial spirits, who joined him 
in the oatb of war on tbe Americans, and of fidelity to each other. 
Nicholas was to be captain of this band, and to him they swore 
obedience. Soon afterwards, in San Jose, they took two more 
desperadoes into their confidence. The dying robber now re- 
lated a series of terrible, treacherous murders and robberies, in 
which be bad had a band — sometimes directly, and sometimes 
indirectly. Above all seemed to stand out in tbe vision of this 
dying wretch the murder of two brothers of the name of Gary, 
and of a man and his wife on the Salinas plains. The Gary 
brothers were decoyed on the pretence of selling them cattle, to 
a place south of San Juan — about where tbe town of Hollister 
now stands — and there murdered under circumstances of peculiar 
b''utality. Mr. Breen well recollected liaviug seen those two 
young men in San Juan, as they passed on south, and of advis- 
ing them to be cautious and look out for treachery. The mys- 
tery of their never returning and strange disappearance was re- 
vealed to him now, for the first time. Tbe man and wife were 
murdered on the Salinas plains, near the little lagoons where 
now stands the thriving town of Salinas. From the robber's ac- 
count, they were evidently educated people, and of good social 
position. The wife was young, beautiful, and very near ber con- 
finement. There is a general belief among Galifornians that if 
a woman so situated is met by the fiercest grizzly bear, be will 
turn away and leave ber unharmed. Be this as it may, ber situ- 
ation made ber murder, and her dying agony, inexpressibly hor- 
rible. He told how, in San Francisco, be became acquainted 
witb tbe captain of a band of Sydney robbers, witb whom bis 
own band co-operated in many villainous schemes, until they 
were broken up by the Vigilance Gommittee. Then be related bow 
his own band were all killed, one after tbe other, in fights and frays, 
until finally but one beside himself was left. Then how (bey two 
quarreled over money they had robbed from an American, and 
bow, in this aftray be bad run his knife through his friend on 



46 



PIONEEll TIMES IX CALIFORXIA. 



the steps of the '-'Bella Union," in San Francisco. How his 
friend, while djdng, screened him from arrest for the act by 
telling the police who gathered around him that it was an 
American who struck him the fatal blow; then how his friend 
whispered in his ear, as he gasped out his last breath: " Thank 
God, I die by the hand of a countryman." How, from that 
hour, ill luck followed him, until disease and sickness bore him 
down to this horrid death-bed, " where," he continued, " all the 
murdered Americans haunt my sight, asleej^ or awake. I see 
them all waiting for me; and, above all, one of the Gary boys 
holding up a cross in his shattered, bloody hand, asking for 
mercy, just as he was when I struck him the last blow, and then 
the fearful, mournful cry of the dying mother is always ringing 
in my ears. It was not I who struck her. I was in a struggle 
with the husband, and she was striking at me with a hatchet, 
when my partner stabbed her in the breast. She fell on her 
face, dead, as we believed; but, just as we were turning away, 
she stretched out her hand and, partly raising herself up almost 
to a kneeling position, she gave the loudest, longest and most 
fearful cry I ever heard. Oh! it was the cry of the child and 
mother both. After she had again drojjped on the ground, the 
cry seemed to float away over the valley, and we thought we 
could hear it echo and re-echo up in the Gabalan mountains. 
A hundred coyotes, it seemed to me, started into sight from 
their hiding places, and answered the cry with fearful howling. 
I have been only twice through the Salinas plains since then; 
but both times I plainly heard that fearful cry yet re-echoing 
along the hills." Then he told hov\^ they dragged the bodies of 
the husband and wife, threw them into an old well near the little 
lagoon, and filled the well with rubbish to conceal them, and 
then burned their effects, reserving only their gold and the 
woman's jewelry. During the recital the wretched man would 
stop for ten minutes at a time, groaning and apparently in terri- 
ble agon}^, but he always motioned me to remain until he could 
again command his voice. As he finished he looked at me with 
a grim smile and said: " Well, you give it up, now; for you see 
that neither Protestant nor Catholic priest, nor bishop, could 
save such as me?" As I replied, I tried not to betray the sick- 
ening, horrible disgust I could not help feeling towards him. 
I said: "Both Protestants and Catholics believe that God can 
send even such as you grace to repent, and that, if you do re- 
pent, He will forgive you." " You say all Christians believe 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFOENIA. 47 

thatV" "Yes; most surely they do." " Then," said he, iu a 
voice hardly audible, " send me Padre Anzer, and I will get him 
to take from me that bloody handkerchief, although I know all 
the fiends will try to prevent him; for it was the sight of that 
handkerchief that prompted me to my w^orst deeds." Glad to 
escape to the open air, out of the sight of this terrible man, I 
left, in almost a run; sought out Padre Anzer, who at once 
responded to the call. I was glad to be rid of the necessity of 
again seeing the unfortunate wretch. My wife saw to all his 
personal wants, and for the following three days I observed 
Padre Anzer passing in and out of the robber's dark room. 
Then, on the third day, I saw a few Californiaus bringing out a 
coffin. I knew it contained the remains of Nicholas, the mur- 
derer. I walked to the grave with them but asked no questions, 
for I already knew too much. As I turned away, I found myself 
saying: "God's mercies are surely above all his works, so we 
must not doubt, and if it were not so, who among us all could 
hope to enter heaven ?" 

We can hardly realize, in these days of peace and safety for 
travelers in California, how different it was in the early days of 
American rule. There is not twenty miles of the traveled road 
from Monterey to San Francisco that, in some spot, has not been 
the scene of a foul murder in those eventful times. I could 
point out the location where at least six murdered men were 
found at different times, between San Juan and San Jose ; and 
more yet between San Jose and San Francisco. There are four 
murdered men buried under a tree a little north of the bridge 
that crossed, the San Francisquita creek, or arroyo, near the 
Menlo Park railroad station. The first buried there was a man 
of the name of Nightingale, who was in charge of the toll-gate 
kept on the bridge, which was built for the two counties by 
Isaac N. Thorn. Nightingale was murdered in a little house he 
resided in, near the bridge, for his money. Some months later, 
the bodies of three murdered men were found near the same 
place, and, unrecognized by any one, were buried under the same 
tree. Nearly every road in the State has its similar terrible 
record of murders. For the present, I will leave this disagree- 
able subject, though there are frightfully thrilling scenes con- 
nected with my recollections of those dangerous days to lonely 
travelers in California, some of which you may find described in 
another place, should my space permit giving you more of the 
history of that period. 



CHAPTER V. 

DISCOVERY OF GOLD BY MARSHALL-UNSUCCESSFUL ENDEAVOR TO KEEP THE 
MATTER SECRET— LIFE IN CALIFORNIA— INCORRECT ACCOUNT OF IT IN THE 
"ANNALS"— ALLEGED DISSIPATION OF ALL CLASSES — GENERAL INDUL- 
GENCE IN GAMBLING— AMUSEMENTS, ETC. 

The next subject treated of iii the " Annals " that calls for a 
notice is the discovery of gold in California, and the consequences 
of that discovery. The history of the discovery, as given in the 
" Annals," is accepted by nearly every one as, in the main, cor- 
rect. It is as follows. I quote from page 130 of the " Annals ": 

"Many strange and improbable stories have been told as to the earliest 
discoveries; but we believe that the only reliable accoant is that given by 
Captain Sutter, upon whose ground the precious metal was first found, and 
which we shall therefore adopt, without noticing the various fabulous state- 
ments alluded to. 

"It appears that Captain Sutter, during the winter of 1817-8, was erecting 
a saw-mill for producing lumber, on the south fork of the American Kiver, 
a feeder of the Sacramento. Mr. James W. Marshall contracted with Sutter 
for the building of this mill; and, in the course of his operations, had occa- 
sion to admit the river water into the tail-race, for the purpose of widening 
and deepening it by the strength of the current. In doing this, a consider- 
able quantity of mud, sand and gravel was carried along with the stream, 
and deposited in a heap at the foot of the tail-race. Marshall, when one day 
examining the state of his works, noticed a few glittering particles lying near 
the edge of the heap. His curiosity being aroused, he gathered some of the 
sparkling objects, and at once became satisfied of their nature, and the value 
of his discovery. All trembling with excitement, he hurried to his employer, 
and told his story. Captain Sutter at first thought it was fiction, and the 
teller only a fool. Indeed, he confesses that he kept a sharp eye upon his 
loaded rifle, when he, whom he was tempted to consider a maniac, was eag- 
erly disclosing the miraculous tale. However, his doubts were all at once 
dispelled when Marshall turned on the table before him an ounce or so of this 
shining dust. The two agreed to keep the matter secret, and quietly share 
the golden harvest between them. But, as they afterwards searched more 
narrowly together, and gloated upon the rich deposits, their eager gestures 
and looks and muttered broken words happened to be closely watched by a 
Mormon laborer employed about the neighborhood. He speedily became as 



tlONEER TIMES IM CALIFORNIA. 



4d 



wise as themselves. As secrecy was of little importance to him, he forthwith 
divulged the extraordinary intelligence, and, in confirmation of the story, ex- 
hibited some scales of gold he had himself gathered. Immediately, every- 
body in the neighborhood left his regular employment and began to search 
for the precious metal . ' ' 

Now, while the authors of the "Annals " seek to tell us of the 
result, or consequence, of the discovery of gold, and of the sort of 
people it brought to our State, and of the sort of society these peo- 
ple when assembled together produced in San Francisco, they grow 
perfectly wild, reckless and extravagant, and in many instances 
wholly misrepresent the facts. This is an interesting subject to 
our young readers, for it is of their fathers and mothers this part 
of the "Annals" treats. I think, before I get through, I will 
satisfy every one of thena that the picture drawn of us '49ers 
in the "Annals," is a base caricature, and a vile slander on 
the pioneers. From the picture, as given in the "Annals," 
you gather — 

First. That it was the wild, worthless, reckless and smart, 
clever rascals, as they call us, of all nations that rushed to Cali- 
fornia on the discovery of gold. 

Second. That scarce one virtuous woman came with that rush. 

Third. That it was unsafe for a virtuous woman to live in 
San Francisco. 

Fourth. That there was no such thing as a family circle in 
California in the years '49, '50 or '51 , and hardly any worth the 
mentioning in '52 or '53. 

Fifth. That every one, Americans and all, on arriving here, 
threw oflf all restraint of religion, of education and of home, 
American training,, and rushed headlong into all manner of 
vices and excesses. 

Sixth. That all, ' ' from the minister of religion to the boot- 
black," gambled, drank and took part openly in every excess. 
That for the first four years after the gold discovery, including 
1852, all, with hardly one exception, joined in one general de- 
bauch, openly attending, without an attempt at concealment, 
lewd fancy balls and entertainments given by invitation in houses 
of ill-fame. 

The authors, in solemn earnestness, claim it as a virtue, and the 
only redeeming one of our people of San Francisco, that they 
were not hypocrites, as the peoples of other countries, they as- 
sert, arc, because we openly and without shame acknowledged 
4 



50 PIONEER TEMES IN CALIFORNIA. 

that we were indulging- in every devilish excess that money could 
procure. Yes; and that "even the family man loved San Fran- 
cisco with her brave wickedness and splendid folly." As if 
wickedness could be brave, or folly sjolendid. The one, in 
truth, belongs to the cowardly sneak, and the other to the con- 
temptible fool. 

The "Annals" try to make this picture they draw of a four 
years' debauch in San Francisco look full of wild, charming de- 
lights, and they grow jierfectly enthusiastic over it, as they ex- 
claim: " Happy the man who can look back to his share in these 
scenes of excesses. He will be an oracle to admiring neighbors." 

Read the following quotations from the "Annals," and judge 
if I misstate the position of the authors as to our moral status in 
the pioneer years of '49, '50, '51, '52, '53 and '54. Read the 
quotations from pages 3G4, 3G5 and 423 of the "Annals," 
and it will be seen that they are unwilling to admit of any 
change for the better as to private morals. I have examined the 
book carefully, and I fail to find, from cover to cover, one un- 
qualified admission that there were any virtuous women or 
good, industrious wives in San Francisco in those years, or one 
man worthy of a virtuous Avife in all that time. On pages 134 
and 135 they say: 

"These astonishing circumstances soon gathered into California (in 1S49) 
a misecl population of nearly a quarter of a million of the ■wildest, bravest, 
most intelligent, yet most reckless and perhaps dangerous beings ever before 
collected into one small district of country. Gold, and the pleasures that 
gold could bring, had allured them to the scene. » ^ ^' ^^ 

Bich or poor, fortunate or the reverse, in their search for gold, they were 
almost equally dangerous members of the community. * x * * 
The gaming table, women and drink were certain to produce a prolific crop 
of vice, crime and all social disorders. * * * * A legal 

Constitution could alone save California. ^ * » * Proba- 

bly Congress at a distance was not sufficiently alive to the present need of 
adequate measures being instantly taken to remedy the alarming state of 
things described. "* * * At any rate, the most honest, intel- 

ligent and influential persons of California believed that they could wait no 
longer." 

From pages 21 G and 217 : 

" Gambling saloons glittered like fairy palaces — like them, suddenly 
sprung into existence, studding nearly all sides of the Plaza and every street 
in its neighborhood. As if intoxicating drinks from the well plenished and 
splendid bar they contained were insufficient to gild the same, music added 
its loudest, if not its sweetest charms, and all was mad, feverish mirth, where 



PIONEER TIMES IK CALIFORNIA. 51 

fortunes were lost and won upon the green cloth in the twinkling of an eye. 
All classes gambled in those days, from the starched lohite neck-clothed professor 
of relirjion to the veriest black rascal that earned a dollar from blackening 
massa's boots. Nobody had leisure to think even for a moment of his occu- 
pation, and how it was viewed in Christian lands. The heated brain was 
never allowed to get cool while a bit of coin or dust was left. These saloons, 
therefore, were crowded night and day by the imijatient revelers, who never 
could satiate themselves with excitement, nor get rid too soon of their golden 
heaps. * * * rpj^g very thought of that wondrous time is an 

electric spark that fires into one great flame all our fancies, passions and 
experiences of the fall and of the eventful year 1849." 

"The remembrance of those days comes across us like the delirium of fever; 
we are caught by it before we are aware." * * * - 

" Happy the man who can tell of these things which he saw, and, perhaps, 
himself did, at San Francisco at that time. He shall bo an oracle to admir- 
ing neighbors." 

Speaking of the close of 1849, tbey say on page 244 : 

" There was no such thing as a home to be found, scarcely even a, proper 
house could be seen." 

On pages 248, 249 and 250, tliey tell us : 

" Such places were accordingly crowded with a motley crew, who drank, 
swore and gamed to their hearts' content. Everybody did so ; and that cir- 
cumstance was a sufficient excuse, if one were needed, to the neophyte in de- 
bauchery. To vary amusements, occasionally a fancy dress ball, or mas- 
queraile, would be announced at a high price. There the most extraordinary 
scenes were exhibited, as might have been expected where the actors and 
danceis were chiefly hot-headed young men, flush of money and half frantic 
with excitement and lewd girls, freed from the necessity of all moral re- 
straint." « * * " Monte, faro, roulette, rondo, rouge-et-noir and 
vingt-un, were the games chiefly played. In the larger saloons, beautiful 
and well dressed women dealt out the cards, or turned the roulette wheel, 
while lascivious pictures hung on the walls. A band of music and number- 
less blazing lamps gave animation and a feeling of joyous rapture to the 
scene." 

" Gaming became a regular business, and those who followed it profession- 
ally were really among the richest, most talented and influential citizens of the 
town." * « » " The sight of such treasures, the occasional suc- 
cess of players, the music, the bustle, heat, drink, greed and deviltry, all 
combined to encourage play to an extent limited only by the great wealth of 
the community. Judges and clergymen, physicians and advocates, merchants 
and clerks, contractors, sliopkeepers, tradesmen, mechanics, and laborers, min- 
ers a,nil farmers, all adventurers in their 'kind-- every one elbowed his way to 
the gaming table, and unblushiugly threw down his gold or silver stake." 

An admission on page 251, which is worse than no admission : 
" There were exceptions, indeed, and some men scorned to enter a gam- 



62 tlONEER TIMES i:JJ CALIFORNIA. 

bling saloon, or touch a card, but these were too few comparatively to be spec- 
ially noticed. ' ' 

On page 300, of the year 1850, they say : 

" Perhaps two thousand females, many of whom were of base character, 
and loose practices, were also added this year to the permanent population." 

On page 357 (in 1851) : 

" Females were very few in proportion to the whole number of inhabitants, 
although they were beginning to increase more rapidly. A very large por- 
tion of the female population continued to be of a loose character." 

Pages 364-65 : 

" Balls and convivial parties of the most brilliant character were constant- 
ly taking place. The great number of flourishing women of pleasure, par- 
ticularly French, mightily encouraged this universal holiday, and gave ease, 
taste and sp/i'r/W/^ ekgance to the manners of the town." * * * * 
" It would be hard indeed for its hot-blooded and venturous population if they 
did not make the treasures within their grasp minister to every enjoyment 
that youth and sanguine constitutions could crave." * * * * 

" During the disturbed times in the early part of 1S51, when nobody was 
safe from the assaults of desperadoes, even in the public streets or in his 
own dwelling, the practice of wearing deadly weapons became still more 
common. These were often used, though not so much against the robber 
and assassin as upon the old friend or acquaintance or the stranger, when 
drink and scandal, time and circumstances had converted them into supposed 
enemies." **,^**«* 

"The general population of San Francisco in 1852, with shame it must 
be confessed, in those days — as is still the case in 1854, to a considerable 
extent — drank largely of intoxicating liquors. A great many tippled at 
times, and quite as many swore lustily. They are an adventurous people, 
and their enjoyments are all of an exciting kind. They are bold and reck- 
less, from the style of the place and the nature both of business and amuse- 
ment. New-comers fall naturally into the same character." 

Page 368, of the year 1851: 

" Balls, masquerades and concerts, gambling saloons, visits to frail women 
— who have always been very numerous and gay in San Francisco — and an 
occasional lecture, filled up the measure of evening amusement. * * 
It may be said, at the same time, that the foreign population were generally 
an orderly, obedient and useful class of the community. The Chinese might 
have, perhaps, proved an exception." 

Of the close of the year 1852, page 399, they say: 

" There is a sad recklessness of conduct and carelessness of life among the 
people of California, and nearly all the inhabitants of San Francisco, what- 
ever be their native country, or their original pacific disposition, share in the 
same hasty, wild character and feeling." 

A flattering mention of women, on page 417: 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 53 

" Stylishly dressed and often lovely women were constantly seen in fine 
weather, promenading the principal streets and idling their time (which 
they knew not how otherwise to ' kill ') and spending somebody's money in 
foolish shopping, just as is the custom with the most virtuous dames in the 
great cities on both sides of the Atlantic." 

Of 1852 they tell us on pages 423-24-25: 

" No important change had occurred in the social or moral condition of 
San Francisco during 1852, and the characteristics of the people which were 
noticed in our review of the previoias year still existed. The old dizzy round 
of business and pleasure continued. There were not only more people, 
greater wealth, finer houses, more shops and stores, more work, trade and 
profits, more places of dissipation and amusement, more tippling and swear- 
ing, more drunkenness and personal outrages, nearly as much public gam- 
bling and more private play. There were also a few more modest women, 
and many more of aaother class. » * » « » 

Then there were more churches, more moral lectures and religious publica- 
tions, more Sabbath and day schools, and, too, more of everything that was 
beautiful and bad. More vice, debauchery and folly, and, perhaps, also a 
Ziii/e more real religion, and sometimes a cZeaZo/ ouiwarcZ cZecency. * » » 
The majority, however, of the first settlers had faith in the place. They 
relished its excitements as well of business as of pleasure; they had no family 
or fond ties elsewhere, or these had been long rudely broken, and so they ad- 
hered to San Francisco." *«»«** 

"A few years here make one old in sensation, thought and experience-^ 
changes his sentiments, and he begins to like the town and people for their 
own sake. The vices and follies, the general mode of living that frightened 
and shocked him at first, seem natural to the climate, and after all are by no 
means so veet disagreeable. * * *• The scum and froth of its strange 
mixture of peoples, of its many scoundrels, rowdies and great men, loose 
women, sharpers and few honest folk, are still all that is visible. The current 
of its daily life is muddy and defiled by the wild effervescence of these un. 
ruly spirits." 

Page 452 (in 1853): 

" A great portion of the community still gamble — the lower classes in 
public, and the upper, or richer, classes in private." 

Pages 500 and 501: 

"As we have said, during 1853 most of the moral, intelligent and social 
characteristics of the inhabitants of San Francisco were nearly as described 
in the reviews of previous years. * « * The old hard labor and wild 
delights, jobberies, official and political corruption, thefts, robberies and 
violent assaults, murders, duels and suicides, gambling, drinking and gen- 
eral extravagance and dissipation. * * * They had wealth at command, 
and all the passions of youth were burning within them. They often, there- 
fore, outraged pubhc decency; yet, somehow, th"^ oldest residents and the 
very family men loved the place, with all its brave wickedness and splendid 
folly." 



54: PIONEER TIMES IN CALITOKNIA. 

Page 502 (in 1854): 

"The cards are often still dealt out and the wheels turned, or dice thrown, 
by beautiful women, well skilled in the arts calculated to allure, betray and 
ruin the unfortunate men who become their too willing victims. * * * 
The keepers are wealthy men, and move in the better social circles of the 
town." 

Now let us hear the authors ventilate their ideas of morality 
on this same page and the next, 503: 

" Though there be much vice in San Francisco, one virtue — though perhaps 
a negative one — the citizens at least have; they are not hypocrites, who pre- 
tend to high qualities which they do not possess. In great cities of the old 
world, or it may be even in those of the pseudo-righteous New England 
States, there may be quite as much crime and vice committed as in San 
Francisco, only the customs of the foimer places throw a decent shade over 
the grosser, viler aspects. The criminal, the fool and the volui^tuary are not 
allowed to boast, directly or indirectly, of their bad, base or foolish deeds, as 
is so often done in California. Yet these deeds are none the less blamable 
on that account; nor, perhaps, are our citizens to be more to blame because 
they often seek not to disguise their faults. Many things that are considered 
morally and socially wrong by others at a distance are not so viewed by San 
Franciscans when done among themselves. * « » ^^^ j£ gg^^ 

Franciscans conscientiously think that their wild and pleasant life is not so 
very, very wrong, neither is it so really and triCy wrong as the Puritanic and 
affectedly virtuous people of Maine-liquor prohibition and of foreign lands 
would fain believe. * * * It is difficult for any icoman, how- 
ever pure, to preserve an unblemished reputation in a community like San 
Francisco." 

The authors grow enthusiastic over the picture of our wick- 
edness they have drawn, and on jDages 508 and 509 they hold 
forth thus: 

"The crime, violence, vice, folly, brutal desires and ruinous habits — the 
general hell (not to talk profanely) of the place and people — these things, 
and many of a like saddening or triumphant nature, filled the mind of the 
moralizing 'forty-niner.' If these pioneers — and like them every later ad- 
venturer to California, may think and feel, for all have contributed some- 
thing to the work — lent themselves to the enthusiasm and fancy of the 
moment, they might be tempted with the Eastern King to jn'oudly exclaim, 
and as truly: 'Js noi i/iis great Babylon that I have built, for the house of 
the Kingdom, by the might of my power, and for the honor of my majesty.' 

* * * The vagabonds and scoundrels of foreign lands, and those, 
too, of the Federal Union, were loosed upon the city. Kobbers, incendia- 
ries and murderers, political jjlunderers, faithless ' fathers ' and officials, law- 
less squatters, daring and organized criminals of every description, all the 
worst moral enemies of other societies concentrating here.'' 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 55 

Now the auibors, in their enthusiasm, draw fancy scenes to 
astonish their readers. I quote from pages GG5-G-7-8-9: 

"Perhaps never ia this world's history has there been exhibited such a \i\,- 
riety and mixture of hfe scenes within the same extent and among an equal 
number of iieojile, as in San Francisco for the two or thi-eo years succeeding 
the discovery of gold." * * * * "Away from Law, away from 
public opinion, away from the restraints of home, half wild with the posses- 
sion of sudden and unaccustomed wealth, 'on with the dance, let joy be 
unconfined' seemed the motto best suited to the conduct of a large portion 
of the people. The Puritan became a gambler; the boy taught to consider 
dancing a sin soon found his way to masked-balls; monte became as familiar as 
the communion, and the catechism was forgotten while the champagne popped, 
sparkled and excited. At first it was a society comi^osed almost exclusively 
of males; and, as a natural and inevitable consequence, men deteriorated. 
Excitement was sought in such sources as could be found. The gaming-table, 
with its cards and dice; the bar, with its brandy-smashes and intoxication." 
* * * "But soon women began to join the anomalous crowd. Then 
a new pleasure of society appeared . Then reason tottered and passion ran 
riot. The allurements of the cyprian contested the scepter with the faro 
banks. Champagne at ten dollars a bottle sold as readily in certain locali- 
ties, as did brandy at fifty-cents a glass in the saloon. Men suddenly rich 
squandered more in a night than until within a few months they had been 
able to earn or to possess in years. Dust was plentier than pleasure; pleas- 
ure more enticing than virtue; fortune was the horse, youth in the saddle; 
dissipation the track, and desire the spur. Let none wonder that the time 
was the best ever mads. Naturally enough, masked-balls soon came in the 
train of women, wine and gold. Many of these ball-rooms were soon dedi- 
cated to the service of Terpsichore, Cupid and Momus; and it must be con- 
fessed also that Bacchus shared no trifling portion in those devotions. Im- 
agine a vast hall, nearly one hundred feet square, with a bar of fifty feet in 
length, built with an eye to tasteful architecture, and with a hand in the 
pocket, glittering in front with gold leaf and in th.e rear supported by a bat- 
talion of cut-glass decanters, colored glass ornamental articles, a golden eagle 
perched above the stock of liquors and wines — the American cannot drink a 
cock-tail comfortably unless the 'star spangled banner' float above, and the 
national eagle look with at least a glass eye into his potation; in the center a 
piece of machinery, exhibiting the sea in motion, tossing a laboring ship upon 
its bosom; a water-mill in action; a train of cars passing a bridge; and a deer- 
chase, hounds horsemen and game, all in pursuit, or flight. Opposite, a full 
band, crowding every nook of the room with sweet echoes, marches, cotil- 
lions, mazurkas, gallopades, waltzes. On the third side a cake and a coflfee- 
Btand; and behind it a fair face, limber tongue, busy hands, coining dust 
from thirst, gallantry and dissipation." 

"It is dark, the hour nine; the rain dripples outside and the quaker-grey 
outdoors, wet, chill, mud, gloom of the rainy season, drive the lonesome, the 
hilarious and the dissipated to the door where the ticket-taker admits the 
pleasure-seeker, who has deposited his umbrella in the general depot for 



56 PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 

those movable roofs, and been relieved by a policeman of any dangerous 
weapon — silver and gold excepted — which may accompany his person. By 
the private entrance come the maskers, male and female . The Spanish ban- 
dit with his high tapering hat ornamented with ribbons; the Gipsy with her 
basket and cards; the Bloomer, beautiful iu short skirts and satin-covered 
extremities; the ardent young militaire with a borrowed uniform and sparse 
moustache; which requires like swarming bees the assistance of a clattering 
tin kettle to congregate the scattering portions; the Swiss ballad-singers, with 
their hurdy-gurdy and tambourine; the flaunting cyprian, not veiled by 
domino or mask; and the curious, but respectable lady, hidden by cloak and 
false visage. There is the Frenchman, in fantastical dress; a Gallic Count 
imitating the Yankee; the Yankee affecting 'Aunty Vermont;' and men, 
already feeling the force of their libations, affecting sobriety." 

"Now the band commences, the bow is drawn, the breath blown, and 
domino and mask are whisked about into the midst of the dizzy maze by 
the Turk, who has forgotten his cimeter; the Pole, who has nothing of Kos- 
ciusko or Poniatowski except the tall cap, etc.; the Vermonter imitating a 
courtier of Charles II, and a Eed Republican affecting Silsbe or Dan Mar- 
ble. Away they whirl through the waltz, or crash along the mazurka or 
dash away promiscuously in the gallopade. Where there are no masks exer- 
cise brings no new rose tint nor crimson to the soft cheek — the rouge or car- 
mine is too thick for that. The music draws to a close, and ends with a grand 
flourish. Off to the bar and coffee-stand go the maskers, the gentlemen to 
treat, the others to be treated. So a few hours wear away. The potations 
begin to operate, the violent seek rencontres, old scores are to be settled and 
new quarrels commenced. Jealousy's eyes take a greener tinge from the bot- 
tle imp, and woman, forgetting her last prerogative, gentleness, joins the ring 
and gives point and effect to feminine oaths, by the use of feminine nails. 
Gradually the room is thinned, the first departing being cai-eful to select the 
finest umbrellas, and when daylight comes it finds the usual characteristics of 
such 'banquet hall deserted.' Such is a slight description of the 'California 
Exchange' in the height of its ball-day glories, where in one night thous- 
ands of dollars were taken for tickets, and thousands at the bar for drinks. 
Another scene. See yonder house. Its curtains are of the purest while 
lace embroidered, and crimson damask. Go in. All the fixtures are of a keep- 
ing most expensive, most voluptuous, most gorgeous, the favorite ones with 
the same class of humanity, whose dress and decorations have made so 
significant, ever since the name of their city and trade 'Babylon.' It is a 
soiree night. The ' lady ' of the establishment has sent most polite invita- 
tions, got up on the finest and most beautiful embossed note paper to all the 
principal gentlemen of the city, including collector of the port, mayor, alder- 
men, judges of the county and members of the legislature. A splendid band 
of music is in attendance. Away over the Turkey or Brussels carpet whirls 
the politician with some sparkling beauty, as fair as frail, and the judge 
joins in and enjoys the dance in company with the beautiful but lost beings 
whom to-morrow he may send to the house of correction. Everything is con- 
ducted with the utmost propriety. Not an unbecoming word is heard. Not 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 57 

an objectionable action seen. The girls are on their good behavior, and are 
proud to move and act and appear as ladies. Did you not know you would 
not suspect that you were in one of those dreadful places so vividly de- 
scribed by Solomon, and were it not for the great proportion of beauty 
present, you might suppose yourself in a saloii of upper-tendom. But the 
dance is over; now for the supper table. Everything within the bounds of 
the market and the skill of the cook and confectioner is before you. Opposite, 
and by your side, that which nor cook nor confectioner's skill have made 
what they are— cheeks where the ravages of dissipation have been skillfully 
hidden, and eyes with pristine brilliancy undimmed, or even heightened by 
the spirit of the recent champagne; and here the illusion fades. The cham- 
pagne alone is paid for. The soiree has cost the mistress one thousand dol- 
lars, and at the supper and during the night she sells twelve dozen of 
champagne at ten dollars a bottle ! This is a literal fact, not an idea being a 
draft upon the imagination or decorated with the colors of fancy. No loaf. 
ers present but the male tonj vice hides herself for the occasion, and staid 
dignity bends from its position to twine a few flowers of social pleasure 
around the heads and breasts of these poor outcasts of society. " 

Page 670. The man all right, the woman a hypocrite: 

" Another picture. It is Sunday afternoon. Service is over at church 
and 'meeting house.' The Christian who went to worship, and the belle 
whose desire was to excite admiration, have returned home. The one to re- 
flect or to read, the other to calculate possible triumphs or to coquette." 

On page 727 we find this foolish misrepresentation : 

" Owing to his removal from office, and the impossibility of deciding upon 
his future course, but chiefly because of the disordered state of the city, occasioned 
by the outrages of the 'Hounds,' rendering it actually unsafe for any lady to re- 
side there, Colonel Geary determined to let his family remain here no longer, 
but sent back to Pennsylvania, in company with long tried friends, his wife 
and two babes, the youngest of whom had been born in April, and was the 
first male child, of purely American parents, that was born in San Francisco 
after the cession of California to the United States." 

In puffing John W. Geary, on page 719, the authors utter the 
following malicious, wholesale slander of the Pioneers: 

"Who, then, would have expected to have found a community so lawless 
and reckless, so passion-actuated and fancy-governed, so wild, desperate and 
daring, so pregnant with vices and so barren of virtues, as it [San Fran- 
cisco] was described in the history of nations, the first to exhibit to centuries 
of civilized life a lesson of thankfulness for good done, of forbearance and 
sacrifice of personal desires, of zeal and earnestness in rewarding real 
merit?" 

Now, I take issue with the authors of the "Annals," and make 
the following statement, which I will undertake to sustain, in 



58 PIONEER TIMES IN CALIX''OENIA. 

part, by some facts given iu the "Annals" itself, and, in part from 
other sources; and my readers shall be the judges of the proba- 
ble correctness of my position. In the first place, then, I assert, 
that after the first day of May, 1849, nineteen-twentieths of the 
emigration to this State came from the other States of the 
American Union. Secondly, that this whole emigration, with a 
few exceptions, of coarse, were remarkable for their high moral 
and social standing at home, as well as for their education, in- 
telligence, energy and personal bravery. Thirdly, that four- 
fifths of them never faltered, in their new home, from this high 
character and standing. Fourthly, that a large number of 
women and children poured into the State with the American 
immigration, and that of all these women in San Francisco, and 
in the whole State, not so large a proportion as one in twenty 
belonged, openly or privately, to the abandoned class, which was 
the only one known, it should seem, to the authors of the "Annals. " 
Fifthly, that in the early Summer months of 1849, family homes 
began to appear in every direction in San Francisco, and that by 
the Fall of '49, they could be said to be numerous; and that from 
that time forward they steadily increased; that in the Fall of 
1850, nice family houses and cottages, were a leading feature of 
the city; that, in '51 and '52, the want of families and of home 
family circles was hardly felt — except, of course, by the new 
comers; that not so large a proportion as one-fifth of the resi- 
dents of San Francisco joined in the gambling carousals described' 
in the "Annals," or in fact, gambled in any way; that there never 
was such a ball at a house of ill-fame, as described iu the "An- 
nals" on page G65, which they accomjpany with a wood cut to 
make it look charming; that there were balls at such houses no 
one doubts, but that respectable men in San Francisco ever 
openly attended such is untrue; that it never was so that keepers 
and managers of gambling hells were of the "first respecta- 
bility and social standing" in San Francisco, as is claimed by 
the "Annals;" that no one in San Francisco ever saw a minister 
of religion, of any denomination, who was in good standing with 
his church, at a gambling table; that there never was a day in 
San Francisco when eveiy man, or even one man of respectable 
standing was willing to say 02Denhj that he went to such carous- 
als as are described on page 665 of the "Annals." Now, my 
young Forty-niners, to whom I am addressing myself, let me see 
how far I can sustain these bold, flat denials and charges of 



PIONEEK TIMES IN C.VLIFOKNIA. 59 

misrepresentation on the authors of the "Annals." I will draw 
your attention, in the first place, to a few queer facts we find in 
the "Annals" themselves, and see if they look consistent with the 
charming picture of "brave wickedness and splendid folly" they 
draw of us old Forty-niners. Examine the following quotations 
from the "Annals": 

On pagfe 295 we find the following, in relation to the celebra- 
tion of October 29, 1850: 

" The houses were likewise brilliantly illuminated and the rejoicings were 
everywhere loudly continued during the night. Some five hundred gentle- 
men and three hundred ladles met at the grandest public ball that had ever 
yet been witnessed in the city, and danced and made merry till daylight, in 
the pride and joy of their hearts that California was truly now the thikty- 
riEST State in the Union." 

Page 361: . 

" Schools and churches were springing up on all sides. A certain class 
largely patronized the last, though it must be admitted that very many, par- 
ticularly foreigners, never entered them." 

Page 447. 1853: 

" May 2d — May-day happening upon Sunday, a procession of school chil- 
dren to celebrate the occasion, took i^lace the next day. This was a new 
and pleasant sight in San Francisco, and the event is worthy of being re- 
corded. There were about a thousand children of both sexes in the train. 
They appeared all in holiday costume, the girls being dressed in white. 
Each one carried a bouquet of fresh and beautiful flowers. There was the 
usual ' Queen of May,' with the ' Maids of Honor,' and various other charac- 
ters, all represented by the juvenile players. The children of seven schools 
bore distinctive banners. A fine band of music accompanied the happy pro- 
cession. After i^roceeding through the principal thoroughfares, the children 
moved to the schoolhouse on Broadway. Here some pleasant ceremonies, 
sougs, and addresses took place, in which the children themselves were the 
chief actors. A repast of such delicate eatables as suited youthful palates 
was next enjoyed, after which the glad multitude dispersed." 

Page 492. 1853: 

"There are 10 public schools, with 21 teachers, and 1,250 scholars, besides 
private establishments. There are 18 churches, and about 8,000 church 
members." 

Divorce. Page 503: 

" By the laws of California, divorces are readily obtained by both husband 
and wife, one of whom may think him or herself injured by the cruel conduct 
of the other, and who, perhaps, disliking his or her mate, or loving another 



60 PIONEER TIMES Ii; CALIFORXIA. 

may wish to break the bonds of wedlock. Divorces are accordingly growing 
very numerous here, and have helped to raise a general calumny against the 
sex." 

Pages 663-4: 

" In 1851 a company of model artists exhibited at the Parker House with 
very poor success; and even Dr. Collyer's company, who opened rooms on a 
greater scale on Commercial street, received no better patronage — showing 
that the public taste was not so vitiated as was supposed." 

* * * "A large Music Hall has been erected on Bush street, near the 
corner of Montgomery, by Mr. Henry Meiggs, and here quiet folks are enter- 
tained with concerts, oratorios, lectures, fairs and the like. The ' Mercan- 
tile Library Company, '' Young Men's Christian Association,' and other 
societies, at various seasons every year, afford the literary public opportuni- 
ties of listening to scientific, moral, and other instructive discourses by emi- 
nent speakers. 

" Thus do the people of San Francisco employ their leisure hours. Possessed 
of so many opportunities of gaining wealth, they freely use it in the purchase 
of those enjoyments which relieve their minds and bodies from the harass- 
ing toil to which they have been subjected in its acquirement. Thus, not- 
withstanding the immense wear and tear of such unexampled energy as is 
here required in any occupation, the unstinted and universal use of reasona- 
ble relaxation and pleasure enables them to retain their vigor, and lead far 
more agreeable and useful lives than do the miserable hoarders of slowly- 
gotten gains in other countries." 

Page 685: 

"The aggregate number of schools in this city is now 34, the whole num- 
ber of teachers 62 — 20 being males and 42 females, and the whole number of 
scholars 1,305 boys, and 1,216 girls — or, in all, 2,521, about seventy per cent 
of all the children over four years of age in the place. In five of these 
schools, the ancient and modern languages, higher mathematics, philosophy, 
etc., are taught." 

Churches and Religion. Page 687: 

"We have gazed so long on the moral turpitude of the San Franciscans, 
that both eye and mind would turn away pained if they could dwell on more 
pleasant sights. * * « Happily the long record of vice and immorality 
(the black page of our diary) has a bright and noble counterpart, like the 
gold-dust amid the muddy atoms of our own river-beds, that redeems our 
character from wholesale condemnation." 

Pages 699 and 700: 

" Such an array of churches and societies are surely evidences enough of 
the sincerity, zeal and success of the early spirit of moral reform. It has 
also established numerous benevolent institutions, and sought to excite sym- 
pathy and gratitude, by alleviating sorrow and softening the harsh blows of 
misfortune. * * '* We have already spoken of the public school eflfort, 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 61 

and the good accomplished through it, and we may remark now that it has 
been ably seconded by the establishment, in almost all the churches, of Sab- 
bath-schools and Bible-classes, which are extremely icell attended." 

Page 701: 

"We have said enough, we hope, to prove that not all, nor near all, the 
citizens of San Francisco are lost to everything but reckless dissipation. No 
city of equal size— /eio of ten times its age — can present such a list of men and 
institutions who have accomplished so much keal good with so littls cant 
and hypocrisy." 

On page 176 of the "Annals" we find that in June, 1847, 
some time before gold was discovered, not counting the New 
York volunteers, there were 375 white inhabitants in San Fran- 
cisco; 107 of these were children, of both sexes, and 77 were 
women, and 228 of the whole number were born in the United 
States. This shows that we did not start with much when gold 
was discovered. Now read the quotation from page 295 of the 
"Annals," and what do we find on the twenty-ninth day of Octo- 
ber, 1850, a little over a year after the American immigration be- 
gan. We find 300 highly respectable ladies attending a ball 
given in honor of the admission of California into the Union. 
I was at that ball, and I knew personally every lady in attend- 
ance on that happy occasion, and there was not one exception- 
able female there. They were the wives and daughters of our 
first citizens. Pretty good, you will admit, for a city Avhere no 
virtuous women could live, if we were to credit the "Annals." 

In the next place, read the quotation from page 447. Here 
we find 1,000 well dressed, well cared for, beautiful children 
on parade, representing at least three times that number not on 
parade. This proves that on the second day of May, 1853, there 
must have been at least four thousand children in San Francisco. 
Did the mothers of these 4,000 children arrive here the day be- 
fore the parade, or had they mothers ? The children were beauti- 
fully dressed. Can it be that they came from the haunts of the 
vile and the wicked, as the "Annals" would have us believe? 
My young reader, these children had mothers; good, virtuous, 
and as true women as ever adorned a community. They were 
your mothers, the women of '49-'50-'51 — the existence of whom 
the authors of the "Annals" ignore throughout their whole 
book. On pages 300 and 357, and in every paragraph relating 
to women, they wickedly misrepresent the character of the fe- 
male immigration to our State . I well recollect that, on the 



62 PIONEER TIMES IN C.ILIFOENIA. 

occasion • of that parade of children, I stood on Montgomery 
street with a respected friend, now past to his last resting place 
iu Lone Mountain. As the procession passed us, my friend, 
c'asping his hands enthusiastically, exclaimed: "Well, well ! 
God bless the women of '49! They have done more for our 
State than all the men on earth. " Next let me ask you to read 
the quotations from pages 492 and 493, What do you think ? 
Does it not show jDretty well for a place the authors of the 
"Annals " tell us was steeped to the chin in a universal debauch? 
In 1847 we started, as I have already drawn your attention to, 
with 375 white inhabitants, and 107 of these were children. In 
three j'ears from that date the "Annals" are forced to admit the 
existence of ten public schools, conducted by 21 teachers, with 
one thousand two hundred and ffty children in daily attendance; 
18 churches, with eight thousand church members. Who were 
these church members ? To take a rule that almost universally 
applies to the sex of church members, say three women to one 
man, it will give us G,000 female church members and 2,000 male 
church members. How is this? The "Annals" tell us that no 
virtuous women could live in San Francisco at that time. The 
"Annals" further tell us that, besides the one thousand two hun- 
dred and fifty children at the public schools, there were a great 
number attending " private educational establishments." Pretty 
good, I say, for a three-year-old, debauched city, where "all 
gamble and drink," and where the most resjiectable attend 
balls at houses of ill-fame by invitation, without any conceal- 
ment, as the "Annals " tell us. But we have more wonders to 
draw attention to that this " brave, wicked" people did. Read 
quotation from page G85. You see that, in 1854, the most de- 
pressed year San Francisco ever went through, the schools num- 
bered 34, the teachers 62, the children in actual attendance two 
thousand five hundred and twelve, which was seventy per cent, 
of the children over four years of age in the whole city. By 
adding the thirty per cent, not in attendance on the schools, and 
the children under four years of age, it will give us about 5,000 
children for San Francisco at that date. Pretty fair, you will 
admit, for a city whose women are " flaunting, idle, worthless 
creatures." Yes; pretty fair for a city that has no mothers, no 
home family circles, if we are to believe the authors of the "An- 
nals." Now I will draw your attention to the quotation from 
page 663, and ask this question: If San Francisco was such a 



PIOXEER TIMES IN C.VLIFORXIA. G3 

terribly wicked place as the "Annals" describe it, why did not 
this shameless exhibition of De Collyer's prove a success ? Now 
read the quotation from page 664, and do you not find it a com- 
plete contradiction to nearly the whole of what the "Annals" 
have before told us, as to the habits and ways of our pioneers? 
Now read the quotation from page 687, on character and religion. 
It is a preface to a long account of the churches and the won- 
. derful activity in religious matters in San Francisco. This his- 
tory of religious matters was furnished to the authors of the 
"Annals " by the clergymen of the various denominations, and 
could not, with decency, be omitted; so they insert it, but make 
an ingenious effort to induce us to believe that this splendid 
array of personal sacrifices for the sake of society, with its won- 
derful success, in some way, was consistent with the sink of immor- 
ality they describe the whole peo^Dle of San Francisco to be sunk 
in. " Without an exception worth noticing," as we are told on 
pages 216, 250 and 251. What an absurdity! San Francisco 
commenced her career with 375 white inhabitants — not a school 
or a church within her limits. This was a year before the gold 
discovery. In four short years after the discovery of gold the 
"Annals " record that she has 24 places of public worship, many 
of them beautiful buildings, with at least 12,000 church mem- 
bers, 9,000 of whom were undoubtedly women. Pretty good 
for a city a virtuous woman could not live in and preseiTe un- 
sullied her reputation, for so the "Annals " tell us. They record, 
further, that there are now 34 public schools, with 25,000 children 
in daily attendance, and 2,500 children not attending the i:»ub]iG 
schools; two well conducted and flourishing orphan asylums, 
with many charitable and benevolent associations, to which be- 
long hundreds of zealous members. Yes; and they tell us of 
public libraries, lecture rooms, and, in fact, a fine beginning in 
all that should belong to a refined Christian community. Is 
such a state of facts x^ossible, if what the "Annals " tell us of 
the people of San Francisco from 1849 to '54 be true ? As to the 
women of those four years, if we were to believe the "Annals," 
they were "nearly all worthless, abandoned, idle creatures." I 
have quoted the only sentence, from cover to cover, in the "An- 
nals," where the authors utter a word in regard to women, that 
would qualify their wholesale denunciation of them, and that is 
an unwilling admission, that there were, or might he, some virtu- 
ous women in San Francisco; but they were the exception. 



64 PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFOR^•IA. 

On page 300 we are told that of 2,000 women they report as 
arriving that year, "many of them were of the abandoned sort," 
and from the way it is stated, the impression is given that most 
of them were of that class, whereas, in truth, not over three in a 
hundred of them were of that class, and this is a large estimate. 
Again, on page 357, we are told that the women were increasing 
very fast, but that "a very large proportion of iftem continue to be 
of the ivorst class ." This is another wicked misrepresentation. 
Read the quotation from page 417. AVhat a false idea it conveys 
of the women of '49! For, my young readers, there never was 
in the annals of the world a nobler class of women than the 
women of '49. They were patient, they were enduring. They 
accepted terrible privations, and faced dangers and trials "with- 
out a murmur. Many and many a time in those days, when the 
proud, strong man faltered at the difficulties before him, did the 
wife, the daughter, or the sister, with her cheerful, encouraging 
voice, and bright, sunny smiles, dispel the dark shadows, and 
show him the way to success. When I speak of the " women of 
'49," of course I do not speak of the poor, abandoned creatures 
who so filled the imaginations of the authors of the "Annals." 
No; I do not speak of them, or think of them; for, though num- 
erous, and particularly so in the eyes of those who chose to live 
in friendship with them, they were as nothing in numbers when 
compared to the whole female population of San Francisco. 
No; when I speak of the women of '49, I spaak of the wives, 
daughters and sisters of the men of '49, who, with heroic cour- 
age and undaunted resolution, faced a pioneer life, asking noth- 
ing but to share our hardships or our triumphs — whatever fortune 
might throw in our way. No; I speak of your mothers, who 
brought with them to San Francisco, or had born to them there, 
the 5,000 children we find there at the close of 1858. I speak 
of the women who fostered and guarded those children in all 
that difficult time. I speak of the women whose devotion, 
unobtrusive piety, good example, and constant whisperings of 
encouragement and good counsel to the worldly-minded men 
of their households, were the chief cause of churches, schools, 
oi'phan asylums, and many other useful and benevolent associa- 
tions, springing like magic into existence in every part of the 
city. Read the quotation from page 423: "A feio more modest 
women and many more of another class." According to these 
authors, we were growing worse instead of better, notwithstand- 



PIONEER TIMES I\ CALIFORNIA. 65 

ing our display of churches, schools, and nil. Kead the quota- 
tion from pages 502-3. It gives us some wise, moral teaching. 
The authors say, in plain English, that all this vile life they 
describe is not " renUy and trulj/" vt'rong, after all; and that an 
open boast of leading such a life is commendable and a virtue. 
The authors evidently do not believe in the scriptural passage 
that says, " Scandal must needs be but woe to him by whom it 
Cometh." Then they admit — but very unwillingly — that there 
are some virtuous women in San Francisco, fit companions for 
the dear, innocent, virtuous creatures fhey describe us men of 
San Francisco to be at that time. Truly, my young forty-niners, 
you ought to be grateful to these authors for this admission; for 
it makes it just possible that some of your mothers were uiore than 
fit com]Danions for the sort of men only known to the authors of 
the "Annals " as existing in San Francisco. But they qualify 
this reluctant admission in so many ways that the uninformed 
reader conceives from it a yet worse idea of the women of '49 
than he had before. Read the quotation from page G70, and 
you will find another contemj)tible fling at the women of '49. 
The authors give the women a base motive for attending church. 
To the oneii a good one!!! Can it be, my young readers, that 
these authors had a mother, or a sister? They write as if 
they never knew of either, although they could not have 
got into the world without a mother, or lived through their 
childhood without a woman's unselfish, tender care. Now, let 
me draw attention to a quotation taken from page 700. It 
comes in after the authors Jind themselves compelled to give a 
record of the brilliant triumphs of religion and of learning in the 
first four years of San Francisco's existence as an American city. 
You will find in this quotation a sort of an unwilling admission 
of what we had done, but not a word that takes back their former 
wholesale slanders of both men and women. They see the ab- 
surd position they have placed themselves in, and, with impu- 
dence that is refreshing from its coolness, tell us that " not all 
or neai- all " iho people of San Francisco were debased outcasts. 
Truly we should be thankful for this admission. The authors 
of the "Annals" arc as inconsistent on this whole subject of 
society in San Francisco, in their views and the facts given, as 
they were in the fir:it part of their book on the Missions. Who 
can read of what the j'oung city of San Francisco accomplished 
for religion and education, in four short years, and not be filled 



66 PIONEER TIMES IlSf CALIFORNLI. 

with enthusiastic admiration ? Yet the authors of the ''Annals " 
describe this whole people as being little less than denizens, en 
masse, of houses of ill-fame, and gambling- hells, conducted, 
they tell us on pages 249 and 250, by the "richest, most talented 
and most influential citizens of the city." I challenge the authors, 
or any one, to 7ia7ne the conductor of a gambling hell, in 1849, 
or in any other year, who could be said to be one of the "most 
talented, most influential citizens of the town." The assertion 
is utterly without foundation in fact, as every '49er knows. I 
will say here that I quote what the authors of the "Annals" say 
of our divorce laws, on page 503 — not to condemn it, but to hold 
up both hands in approval. 

The law, as it stands, is nothing less than infamous. It lets 
the guilty party contract another marriage as well as the ag- 
grieved party. This is not so in New York or Pennsylvania, nor 
is it so in most of the older States of the Union. Their laws 
only peimit the aggrieved party to again marry. Our law opens 
the dooi to terrible domestic vnckedness, and strikes at the very 
founxlation of society. The shameful fruits are to be seen all 
over our State, in wives and husbands dishonored and disgraced, 
and poor children homeless, and many of them on the road to 
our State Prison, or worse. From our law to the abominable 
doctrine of free love there is but one short step. Our law gives 
the villain who covets another's wife, or the shameless woman 
who seeks another husband, an easy way to gratify their licen- 
tiousness. When you, the young j^eople of California, get the 
reins of power into your hands, which you will in a few more 
short years, honor the land of your birth by striking the objec- 
tionable feature in this law from the statute book. 



CHAPTER VI. 

THE NATURE OF OUR EARLY IMMIGRATION— DIFFICULTiES AND EXPENSE— THE 
WRITER'S OWN EXPERIENCES -THE "SOUTH CAROLINA"— CHARACTER OF THE 
VOYAGERS, AND THEIR AMUSEMENTS— THE ONLY LADY PASSENGER— RIO- 
THREE SCALAWAGS AND THEIR FATES— THE EMPEROR'S GARDEN— PUZZLING 
MONEY— SLAVE TRADE AND CIVIL RIGHTS— ISAAC FRIEDLANDER, OONROY 
AND O'CONNOR, JOHN A. McGLYNN, W. T. SHAW, D. J. OLIVER, WM. F. WHITE 
—AIR CASTLES— DEAD AND LIVING. 

I have said that the American immigration to this State, after 
the discovery of gold, was in the main of a very high order, as 
to intellect, education and moral standing; and this I think can- 
not be disputed. When the news of the gold discovery reached 
us in the Eastern States, in November, 1848, thousands and 
thousands wished to rush off to Califox-nia, but the difficulties in 
the way were found to be very great, principally owing to the 
fact that no one could go who could not command enough of 
money to get an outfit, and pay the expenses of the trip, which 
required in all about five hundred dollars. This was more 
money than any worthless loafer or scalawag could get hold of — 
excejpt he stole it, which was difficult to do. Poor fellows, of un- 
exceptionable character, found friends to help them to the 
money, trusting to their honor and honesty to return it, gener- 
ally agreeing to send a handsome sum in addition in case of 
reasonable success. This caused the immigration from the Mid- 
dle and Eastern States to be decidedly select in character, and, 
even from the States west of the Mississippi river, mere loafers 
found it hard to get admitted into companies going over the plains 
to California; and to make the journey alone, at that time, was 
not possible. Without wishing to intrude my own individual 
history on my readers, which would be disagreeable to myself as 
well as to them, I will just sa^' enough of personal experience to 
show from what standpoint I speak. I will describe the crowd 
with which I came to this State, and the voyage of the ship in 
which I came as passenger, and then go on and give my views 



68 PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFOllNIA. 

of the '49er; and when I speak of '49ers I include all who came 
to this State to the close of 1851, for they were all pretty 
much of the same general stamp of character. I will say to my 
young California readers that I want them, after hearing 
my views, to talk with their fathers and mothers and other 
pioneers, and judge for themselves of the probable correct- 
ness of my picture of men and things in the j^ioneer times. As 
I j)roceed I shall give some anecdotes, and close with some stor- 
ies, all founded on well-known occurrences and facts. This I do, 
the better to illustrate the times, without tiring the reader. 

As I before said, it is not my wish to paint those eventful three 
years with one virtue not fairly belonging to them, nor shall I 
attempt to shade over or keep from view the social excesses into 
which many dashed with shameless bravado, nor shall I attempt 
to hide from scorn the political sneak thieves of those days. No; 
my intention, and my wish, is not to exaggerate either the vices 
or virtues of the times, but to hold up to view a correct and true 
picture of them. 

When the news of the gold discovery reached New York, I soon 
made up my mind to join the emigration to the Golden State. I 
wrote to my parents, who lived in the interior, to get their con- 
sent and blessing. Yes; I could go, and they were ready to give 
me their blessing when I should come for it. Over the railroad 
I sped to my dear, old home, knelt for the blessing, and then 
parted with father, mother, brothers and sisters, and the beau- 
tiful spot that was so connected with all the joys and sorrows of 
my childhood and boyhood, never again to set eyes on it, or on 
most of the dearly loved ones. I left them, that cold Winter's 
morning, at the railroad depot, but the wild California fever- was 
in my blood, and carried me through a scene that, at another 
time, would have crushed me to the earth. Was I to go over- 
land across the isthmus of Panama, or around Cape Horn? This 
was the question I had now to consider. I examined ships ad- 
vertised for California; I Avent to the meetings of clubs formed 
for the overland trij). I heard all the agent of the Panama line 
of steamers had to say. First I decided on an overland trip, but 
was disgusted at a meeting of our club. Then I concluded I 
would go by Panama, but, on inquiry, found such crowds rush- 
ing that way that I feared great detention on the Isthmus, so I 
gave that idea up and finally settled on a sea trip via Cape Horn. 
I recollect that Caleb T. Fay was fitting out a ship for the trip, 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 69 

and I at first thought of joining his party, but, ascertaining that 
the ship was old and a poor sailer, I, in the end, declined to do 
so. I at length found a ship — the South Carolina — that suited 
my ideas perfectly. She was almost new, had a commodious 
cabin, a fine flush deck, affording a good chance for a promenade 
in fine weather, and, above all, she had an intelligent, gentle- 
manly commander, Captain Hamilton. I paid my $350, and se- 
cured a berth. I shipped some goods on her I wished to take 
to California as a venture, and was all ready for the day of 
sailing. That day soon came — a cold, gloomy one in Jan- 
uary, 1849. For the last three hours the ship was at the wharf 
she was crowded with fathers, mothers, sisters and friends of 
the passengers, taking a last farewell. I remember we were sur- 
prised when it became known that we were to have one lady 
passenger, and it was amusing to see the lady visitors crowding 
around her (Mrs. White). In surprise and amazement, they ex- 
claimed : " Oh, so young, and going to such a place as Califor- 
nia! Are you not afraid?" "Afraid of what; there is my hus- 
band," the lady answered, pointing to a man who looked as 
though there was not much risk in trusting to his protection. 
Then I remember a bright young girl saying to her brother, who 
was to be one of our passengers: " Tom, I wish I could go with 
you. I could go just as well as this lady." This was followed 
by several other ladies saying: " So do I," " So do I." Then the 
captain, hearing them, exclaimed : " Yes ; that is what you 
ought to have done, ladies ; but it is now too late. You will 
have to wait until I come back for you." And so, in fact. Cap- 
tain Hamilton did come back, and in a little over one year from 
that time he again left New York for California, this time in the 
beautiful clipper ship Adelaide, with a whole bevy of lady pas- 
sengers. 

"When we were a week at sea we all got pretty well over our sea- 
sickness, and now the passengers began to get acquainted with 
each other. The first officer, Mr. Wilson, and the second mate, 
Mr. O'Neil, we found to be perfect gentlemen, and in every way 
agreeable. There were fifty-six passengers in the first cabin and 
one hundred in the second. When about ten days at sea, the 
Captain made a proposition to the first cabin passengers that on 
the main deck, which, as I have said, was flush from stem to 
stern, there should be no distinction made as to privileges be- 
tween the first and second cabin passengers. To this there was 



70 PIONEER TIMES IN C.lLIFOrvXIA. 

not a dissenting voice in the first cabin. The result was very 
agreeable, as it molded us all, as it were, into one family in all 
the amusements we got up to kill time, or to make it pass agree- 
ably. The passengers proved to be mostly from the interior of 
the State of New York, Pennsylvania and New Jersey. South 
Carolina, too, was well represented, and there were a few from 
the States of Ohio and Kentucky. They were, almost without 
an exception, a fine looking and Avell educated body of young 
men. There were not over three scalawags in the crowd. The 
respectful and chivalrous bearing towards ladies, which is so 
characteristic of Americans, showed itself brightly in the defer- 
ence and polite attention every man on board the ship paid to 
our only lady passenger. The captain gave a general order to 
the officials of the ship that nothing she called for should be de- 
nied, if on board the ship. The influence of even one lady on 
board was found most salutary, and was often spoken of by the 
captain. It was certain that Mrs. White never had to complain 
of word or act of any of the passengers that ignored her pres- 
ence. She reigned queen throughout the passage, for her "right 
there was none to dispute." On our arrival at Eio Janeiro the 
United States sloop-of-war Perry was in the harbor, and as 
soon as the gallant commander heard that an American lady was 
on board our ship, he sent her, through Captain Hamilton, a 
beautiful bouquet of rare flowers and a basket of oranges fresh 
picked from the grove. These were accompanied by a jjolite 
note from the commander to say that one of the boats of the 
Perry was at Mrs. White's command while the South Carolina 
should remain in port. This enabled Mrs. White, her husband, 
his two partners, Mr. McGlynn and Mr. Oliver, with two or 
three other of their friends, to enjoy their ten days in Kio most 
agreeably. As to that, however, we all enjoyed our visit in Rio 
immeusel}'. Three other American shijDS came into port while 
we were there, filled with passengers, on their way to Califor- 
nia. The emigrants on these ships were all much of the same 
stamp as ours, being almost all well educated and agreeable 
men. The passengers from all the ships rushed wildly over the 
city of Eio. There were in all about sis. hundred of us Ameri- 
cans there at the time. I think the citizens of the good city, 
however, imagined that there were at least six thousand, and 
were evidently afraid we would attempt to take the town. The 
police guards were doubled and trebled everywhere. But the 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 71 

fears were without cause, for not an incident of a riotous or dis- 
orderly character took place Avhile we were in the city. Some of 
the most thoughtless young- Americans maneuvered a French- 
man of the name of Faroux, who kept a very fine restaurant, out 
of a good many dinners. This restaurant was close to where 
nearl}' all the boats fx'om the ships landed, for at that time there 
was no wharf accommodation in Kio. The restaurant had a 
fine large eating-room, and all you chose to call for was ele- 
gantly served up. A beautiful daughter of the old man's pre- 
sided at the counter, where the money was received. This, to 
us bachelors, was quite an attraction in itself. For the first two 
or three days all the meals were honorably paid for, but soon 
change began to grow scarce with some who were inclined to be 
a little fast, so they laid plans to get meals without pajdng for 
them. Some eight or ten young fellows would walk into the 
dining room, seat themselves around the table and call for the 
best dinner to be had, hesitating at no expense as to the dishes 
selected. When about through, one would rise from his seat, 
and go through a maneuver as if he were collecting money from 
each of his comj^anions. Then he would walk slowly over to the 
young lady's counter, take his money purse from his pocket, and 
throw it carelessly near him on the counter. He would then 
light his cigar, and commence to talk soft nonsense to the young 
lady. While all this was going on, his companions at the table 
would rise from their seats, and one by one walk leisurely out 
into the street, and disappear in a moment. Now theyovmgman 
at the counter would take up his purse and coolly hand the 
young lady at the counter one dollar, the price of his own din- 
ner. " Ten dollars, sir, if you please. There were ten of you 
at the table." " Ten dollars, m}"^ dear young lady ! What have 
I to do with those other fellows. I tried to get them to give me 
the money to bring to j'ou, just to have the great pleasure of 
talking to you, but they told me to mind my own business, so I 
came to pay for my own dinner, as they should have done, if 
they were honest men." The young lady called for her father, 
but what could he do but pocket his loss ? After two or three 
such tricks as this were played on old Faroux, his Avits were 
sharpened, and he had a policeman stationed at the door of his 
restaurant, whose duty it was to see that no one left the restau- 
rant until his bill was paid. After we left the harbor at Rio, we 
Lad a very hard storm. While it was at it§ laeight, the captain de- 



( 2 PIONEEK TIMES IX CALIFOKXIA. 

elarod that be believed it came upon \is because we bad some pas- 
sengers on board wbo bad cbeated old Faroux, and that if it did 
not soon cease blowing, tbe passengers must draw lots to tiud 
the Jonab; but tbe wind did calm down, so no lot was drawn. 
One or two of our young fellows looked guilty, and feared, I 
suppose, if tbe lot fell to tbem, no friendly wbale would come 
to save tbem. Tbe only tbree scalawags we bad on board sbowed 
tbemselves wbile we were in Eio, and gave tbe captain mucb 
trouble. Tbey were a butcber and bis two sons, from "Wasbing- 
ton Market, in New York city. Tbe captain, bowever, subdued 
tbem, and put tbem in sucb awe of bim tbat tbey gave no more 
aunoyance. Tbeii* fate in California was soon decided ; none of 
tbe tbree ever saw tbe year ISoO. One of tbe sons was killed in 
tbe mines in a row of bis own getting up. Tbe other son was 
bauijed for robberv, wbile tbe father lay drunk in a tent close 
at band, exclaiming : " Oh, they are banging my favorite boy !" 
He soon afterwards died himself while drunk. The harbor of 
Eio was beautiful, and in many points resembled tbe harbor of 
San Francisco, but the mountains at tbe entrance and back of 
the city are immensely higher than any mountains in sight at 
San Francisco. This makes the scenery beyond imagination 
wild, picturesque and majestic. We all visited the Emperor's 
garden, for it is free to all visitors, and, upon paying a fee to a 
guide, you can ramble through it all with great pleasure. In it 
wo found every variety of plant, shrub and tree that is known 
to man in any part of tbe world. "We spent a whole day in it, 
and then did not see one-half. The currency of the country was 
a puzzle to us. They count by cents, mills and milreis. When 
we asked tbe price of an article, tbey would perhaps announce: 
" One thousand reis, sir." Of course, we made up our mind 
that we could not stand that price, and passed on, when in fact 
tbe price asked was very moderate. Four of us boai'ded with a 
Frenchman for live days. When we asked for our bill, we were 
frightened and amazed at the enormous demand. " Tell us how 
many dollars ; bow many dollars ! " we all exclaimed in excite- 
ment. *•■ Don't talk of your milreis, we don't understand it." 
" All right ; I understand, gentlemen. Just tifty dollars for all 
four of you." Eelieved and delighted, we paid the money, and 
had a good laugh at our fright, for, a moment before, we saw 
a Eio jail staring us in tbe face. The negi'O population and the 
condition of the race in Eio sm-prised us very much. The ne- 



PIONEER TIMES IX OALIFOUNIA. 73 

groes that were slaves were iiearly all uativos of Africa, and 
luaiiy of them — both meu ami womeu — were of a line physical 
development, tall in stature, and looked far more intelligent 
than the negro slaves of the South, in our own country. The 
free blacks were treated as perfect equals of the whites in all re- 
spects. They had a right to sit at the table with you at a hotel, 
and in the first seats in a theatre, among the whites. They had, 
in fact, the same rights exactly as the whites had. There were 
many black members in the Legislature, and nearly all the po- 
lice force were black. Notwithstanding all this, the slave trade 
was fostered, or winked at, by the Government of Brazil at that 
time, and slavery was there in its very worse and most degraded 
form. While we were in port a ship discharged a cargo of slaves 
a few miles above the city of Rio, just brought from the coast of 
Africa. I did not go to see these unfortunate beings, but many 
of our i^assengers did, and the description they gave us of the 
creatures was truly terrible. No slave in Brazil was permitted 
to wear shoes. This was a regulation to enable one to distin- 
guish the free blacks from the slaves, as you dare not refuse a 
free black equality in all things with yourself. It was said that 
free blacks were always found in favor of the most oppressive 
laws bearing on the slaves, and were the most cruel owners and 
mastei-s. Another curious fact struck us connected with slavery 
in Brazil. We found that slave dealers, no matter how rich, or 
in what magnificence they lived, were universally despised and 
avoided, even by slave owners. There was an old slave dealer 
who lived on an island on the bay opposite the city of Rio. He 
was an American. I cannot recall his name. He had a perfect 
paradise for a residence. Everything that was beautiful sur- 
rounded him. He had retired from his horrid trafiic immensely 
rich. On hearing of the arrival of so many of his countrymen, 
he came among us, and invited us cordially to his island resi- 
dence. Many accepted his invitation, and on those he lavished 
every attention that was possible, including an elegant enter- 
tainment or lunch. Of course, we were all loud in his praises, 
but on hearing us talk thus the people of Rio said, in a low whis- 
per : " Yes ; he is a good sort of a man, but he made his money 
in tlie slave trade, so no one goes to see him." I suppose such 
a man, when he lies down at night to sleep, forever hears the 
groans and cries of tbe unfortunate meu and women he tlragged 
from freedom to slavery ; and then what enjoyment can he have 



74 PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 

when everyone avoids him as they would a retired pirate ? Our 
national vanity was flattered on finding regular Troy (New York) 
built coaches running- in all directions out of Kio, and regular 
Troy built omnibuses, just similar to those we had left in Broad- 
way (New York), making regular trips from one end of the city 
to the other. This circumstance gave us a strange pleasure, and 
a friendly feeling toward the people of the city. The impression 
left on us of Eio and its inhabitants was most pleasing, and all 
Americans who visited it at the time agree in this. AVe found 
many Americans and Irish residing in Eio ; and, I believe, there 
is not a town in any part of South America where they are not 
to be found. Brazil is the only State in either North or South 
America that adheres to the monarchical form of government of 
its own free will. Canada is not a second exception, for that is 
held by the strong arms of England's military power. Mr. 
Parks, a State of Maine man, who was American Consul in 
Eio in 1849, was most kind and attentive to us all, and gave 
some of us an entertainment at his residence. After leaving 
Eio, when we all met once more on the deck of our ship, we felt 
as if we were old friends loiig known to each other. There was 
Isaac Friedlander, the future great grain king of California, as 
tall as he was at his death, but much more slender. He was a 
pleasant shipmate, and respected by everybody. He was the 
judge and umpire in all disputes in all sorts of games. He was 
our " Philador" on games; no one disputed his decisions. There 
were Conroy and O'Connor, both afterwards so long prominent 
as hardware and iron merchants in San Francisco. There was 
Halleck, afterwards so famous in the same trade in San Fran- 
cisco. He Avas a nice, agreeable young fellow, but universally 
called " Shylock" among the passengers, from the fact that he 
sold jewelry to some of the green ones among the passengers at 
a large price over its true value. There was John A. McGlynn, 
afterwards so widel}- known and esteemed in California, then 
the most popular man on board, the favorite of the captain, who 
called him his " third mate," and gave him many duties to per- 
form in that capacity-. There was William J. Shaw, a young 
lawyer from Ithaca, New York, a very agreeable young man, 
afterwards well known as State Senator from San Francisco. 
He got rich out of a rough and tumble fight about laud titles, 
and enjoys himself in spending his time in foreign travel. There 
was Denis J. Oliver, a fine, handsome, gentlemanly young fel- 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 75 

low, tben a partner of White and McGlynn, who, by close at- 
tention to his mercantile pursuits became wealthy, retired from 
active business, traveled the world over twice, in company with 
his accomplished wife and lovely California raised children, now 
residing in San Francisco, esteemed and respected by all who 
know him, his beautiful home indicating not only his refined and 
cultivated taste, but assuring one that he is a Christian gen- 
tleman, proud of the faith he professes, entirely worthy of that 
personal friendship of the great Pontiff, Pius IX, he so emi- 
nently enjoyed. 

There was Wm. F. White, the husband of our only lady pas- 
senger, who, having a treasure of priceless value to guard, 
seemed to make it a jioint to keep friends with every one. He 
went into the importing business with his partners, McGl3'nn 
and Oliver, in a tent at the corner of Montgomery and Sacra- 
mento streets, San Francisco, and then in a building on Califor- 
nia street; but for many years has resided with his brave 
j)ioneer wife in Santa Cruz, where they raised a large family. 
He represented that district of country in the late Constitutional 
Convention, and is now State Bank Commissioner. There was 
E. P. Eeed, an agreeable young man from the interior of the 
State of New York, now a wealthy and jirominent citizen of San 
Jose. One of the brightefst and most promising young men on 
board was a young lawyer from Rochester, New York, whose 
name was Rochester. He was a favorite with us all. But, in 
two short months after he set foot on California soil, death found 
him and closed the dear boy's career. There was poor Paschal 
Anderson, a tall Kentuckian, who, in fair weather, played the 
violin for us to dance to. He was a good-natured, merry soul. 
He had strange names for his pieces, such as " Cherry Pie," 
" Pumpkin Pie," " The Stump Tail Dog ; " and he could make 
his old fiddle almost speak those names, to the amusement of us 
all. Poor Paschal ! I know nothing of his fate, but whenever 
I think of the deck of the South Carolina, I see him playing his 
fiddle there yet. There was George Casserly, the driest and 
drollest being that ever got away from home; afterwards Police 
Captain in San Francisco, and later Justice of the Peace. What 
his fate has been I know not. There was Henry Pearsy, who 
got rich, I am told, by hard knocks and close attention to busi- 
ness in San Francisco. There was Mr. Rooney, an unobtrusive, 
gentlemanly little man, and his son John, who both, after an 



76 PIONEER TIMES IN CALITOENIA. 

honorable career in California, are now dead. An accomplislied 
daughter of Mr. Rooney is now the wife of Senator James G. 
Eair, of the State of Nevada. There was Van Wyke, a fine young 
fellow, from the city of New York. He came of one of the first 
families, was just out of college, and full of fun and wit — a fa- 
vorite of the captain, for whom he would sing " Mary Blaine," in 
a fine, full, sweet voice. The captain had a daughter, Mary, 
whom he loved to almost worship, and he could listen to any 
song, with Mary for a heroine, for a week on the stretch without 
being tired. Van Wyke would get us laughing by building his 
air castles aloud for all. After singing us a few songs, with a 
good chorus from the crowd, he would exclaim: " Well, there 
is no use of talking, boys; I can tell you my future history now 
as well as I can in twenty years from now. In a few months 
after I get to California I will discover a mine of pure gold in 
the foothills near San Francisco. I will take from it all I want, 
just to get home comfortably, with a hundred thousand or so, to 
divide among my friends as a little present. I will then place 
the mine in charge of some trusty man, with directions to send 
me a quarter of a million or so every month. As soon as I get 
home I will not let it get out that I am so rich, for I will want 
to marry a most beautiful wife, who will take me, not for my 
money, but for myself. I will travel far and near, looking for 
just the girl I want. I will, at length, find her in the country, 
away from all the bad influences of city life. Her father will be 
a proud, rich man, guarding his beautiful child with perfect 
ferocity. I will ofler to teach the mean little public school a 
mile distant from the rich man's residence. I will, of course, be 
accepted as teacher. I will then make an excuse to call at the 
rich man's house, on some business connected with the school — 
for he takes an interest in the schools for the poor, you know. I 
will meet the lovely, angel girl in the garden, attending to her 
flowers. I will ofler to help to trim a thorny rose bush for her, 
taking care to break into some poetical quotations while I am at 
work for her. This will delight her. I will then take from under 
my arm a beautiful volume of poetry, which I will have, as if 
by accident, and ask her to do me the favor to retain it, and read 
some passages I have marked in it. Before we get through our 
talk I will see that she is delighted to be in my company; I will 
then leave, but soon, on some other excuse, I will be there again 
and again, until I am satisfied that she is desperately in love 



KONEER flMES IN CALIFORNIA. 77 

with me. Then I will confess my love to her, and ask her con- 
sent to see her father. She gives her consent, but with 
tears exjDresses her fears that her father will never consent. 
I go to see the father. He flies into a rage, snatches his shot- 
gun, and runs me out of the house, with fearful imprecations. 
That night I meet my love at the foot of the garden. We talk 
through a hole in the fence, just large enough to let my head in. 
She agrees to marry me in secret. I am to leave for New York 
to prepare things, and be back in just one week with a clergy- 
man to tie the knot before she should leave her father's garden. 
I return on the appointed night; the knot is tied; we fly to New 
York, leaving a beautifully affectionate note for the old man, 
concluding by telling him that we were married, and that he can 
come and see us at our humble home in the outskirts of the city 
of New York. Of course, I do not let him know that I have just 
purchased a palatial residence, lately built by a now broken Wall 
Street operator. The old man comes foaming, shotgun in hand. 
This I expect, and have a colored waiter in livery to receive hiin, 
who presents a solid gold waiter to receive his card, saying that 
Mr. and Mrs. Vau Wyke are surrounded by ladies and gentlemen 
who are making their wedding calls. The old man lays his shot- 
gun down in a confused sort of a way. Then the side door is 
thrown open, and my beautiful wife, covered with diamonds, falls 
fainting into her father's arms. All is happy, and we live a 
thousand years. There, boys, you have my future history." 
Poor Van Wyke ! On reaching San Francisco , he went to the 
mines, and about four months afterwards I met him in San 
Francisco again. On inquiring as to his luck, he said: " Well, 
I am on my way home. My friends are all urging me to return, 
and I am going. They offered to send me money to pay my way 
back, but I was too proud for that, so I went to work, and have 
earned $800, besides $100 worth of specimens of gold and gold 
quartz." " How did you earn it, Van?" " In the most unroman- 
tic way in the world; but honestly, however. I hired out to a 
merchant in Stockton, at $250 per month, to drive a mule team 
from that place to the mines." I never saw Van Wyke again, 
and do not know what became of him; but if good wishes could 
make him rich and happy, he is surely both, for he helped us to 
many an hour of pleasure on that voyage. There were many 
other agreeable and jileasant young men, whose names even, in 
many cases, I cannot now recall; and not one disagreeable one 
beyond the three I have already alluded to. 



78 PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 

Where now are all those young, energetic, bright fellows who 
were passengers on the ship South Carolina ? Her brave com- 
mander, and I think more than three-fourths of her passengers, 
are gone to their last rest. Her two first officers, Mr. Wilson 
and Mr. O'Neil, are, I believe, both well off and enjoying a pros- 
perous life. Messrs. Oliver, Shaw, Pearsy and Cunningham, of 
San Francisco; Reed, of San Jose, and White and his wife, of 
Santa Cruz, are all that I know of as living, though, of course, 
there are many others of whom I have lost track. To this list 
of the living must be added myself, now here in Southern Cali- 
fornia, seated in my raucho office writing out these pages for 
our young people's entertainment. 

I had the pleasure lately of spending a few days with the 
Whites in Santa Cruz. Of course, we talked over old times, 
our voyage out from New York, of San Francisco and its '49-ers. 
My wife, who was with me, being a '49-er, we were all in sympa- 
thy when condemning the Society of California Pioneers for not 
repudiating the dedication to them of such a book as the 
" Annals." While in that locality I heard some anecdotes from 
the Whites and others so characteristic of the days of '49 that I 
will give some of them to you before closing this subject. 



CHAPTER VII. 

ISLAND OF JUAN FERNANDEZ— ESCAPE OF THE CON^'ICTS— ENTERING THE 
GOLDEN GATE — UNWILLINGNESS OP CAPTAINS TO COMMAND CALIFOR- 
NIA BOUND SHIPS— PREPARATIONS TO CHECK MUTINY— MUTINIES ON TWO 
SHIPS, AND THEIR JUSTIFICATION. 

The ship South Carolina made only one stop more after leav- 
ing Rio. We put in to the Island of Juan Fernandez for a sup- 
ply of fresh water. This visit interested us all very much, for 
the most fascinating- story we ever read in childhood was the 
story of " Robinson Crusoe," the scene of which was this island. 
We found that it had been lately used by the Chilean govern- 
ment as a prison for convicts, but now there was only one family 
living on it, and an English runaway sailor. The convicts had 
seized an American ship that had put in there, as we had, for 
water, and compelled the captain to take them all on board and 
sail for a certain j)ort they named, in South America. The 
captain feigned to accept their terms, but ran into a port in Chile 
not named by them; and, on some pretence, sent a boat ashore 
before landing any of the convicts. In this way he warned the 
inhabitants of the character of his passengers, and as they 
landed most of them were taken prisoners, or shot in efforts to 
do so. The government of Chile never again attempted to use 
the island for that purpose. It appeared to us well stocked 
with wild goats, and we understood with hogs also. The garden 
and orchards cultivated by the convicts were yet there, which 
afforded us a feast of fresh fruit. The seasons being the re- 
verse of ours in the north, the fruits were all ripening just at 
that time. 

On the last day of June, 1849, we entered the Golden Gate of 
San Francisco Bay without a pilot, with every rag of canvas 
spread, not one accident or death having happened to us on 
the voyage. Caj)tain Hamilton was in wild, joyous spirits at 
this happy termination of a voyage he had begun with serious 



80 PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFOKNlA. 

anxiety for the result. The Cape Horn immig-ratiou was looked 
on by the captains of the merchant vessels with a good deal of 
{ipprehension. They feared to go to sea with a crowd of Ameri- 
can passengers, as they thought it would be hard for them to 
brook the one-man power only known on board a ship at sea. 
They feared that the spirit of independence, which is so much a 
part of every American's composition, that is fostered by his 
education from childhood to manhood, would make it almost 
impossible for him to submit to a power entirely dictatoi'ial in 
its character. On this account, many of the New York captains 
declined the commantl of ships intended for this new trade to 
California. They said : "I have often and often como f i-om 
Euroj^e Avithout the least fear or thought of insubordination 
from the passengers, but they were Europeans and in the habit 
all their lives of being governed, this way or that, without daring 
to ask questions as to why their rulers did this or did that; but 
not so our countrymen. Their rulers are mere puppets in their 
hands, who have to dance to whatever tune their masters, the 
people, choose to play for them, without so much as daring to 
ask their masters why they play that tune. No, no; save me 
from a shipload of Yankee passengers. You will find that just 
as soon as they recover from their first seasickness they will hold 
a ' mass meeting ' on the quarter-deck, without deigning to ask 
the captain's permission, and prescribe I'ules for the government 
of the ship; or perhaps they will depose the captain altogether, 
and put in his place a popular sailor taken from before the mast, 
as their idea will be to run the ship on democratic principles. 
So, excuse me from the command of a California passenger 
ship." This feeling was so universal among the American com- 
manders that none but men of nerve and courage accepted the 
position, and the greatest care was taken to get officers and a 
crew of lirst-class men. Every ship was well provided with 
small arms and handcufl's and shackles, to be used in any emer- 
gency, but never was a more unfounded fear entertained, as the 
result proved. 

The same education that taught the American boy indepen- 
dence of thought, feeling and action, also taught him the abso- 
lute necessit}'^ of every American citizen, who claimed to have a 
particle of propriety or decency in his composition, standing by 
and upholding all laws made, either by his own State or by 
Congress. We are all naturally proud of our country; we be- 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 81 

lieve in its government and in its laws, without a dissenting 
voice; we know these laws are our own and that none Lut the 
worthless or wicked disregard them. 

The immigration to California, particularly the sea-going part 
of it, was, as I have before stated, almost universally of reason- 
ably well educated people. Many of them never saw a ship or 
the ocean before they embarked for California; but, notwith- 
standing this, they perfectly understood that by the laws made 
by Congress the captain of every ship was a dictator in power 
the moment a ship was out of harbor, and each man perfectly 
comprehended thaj; his own welfare, and in fact his life, de- 
pended on the captain's being defended and maintained in that 
power. They did not yield a blind obedience, it is true, as did 
the European immigrant passengers, but they did yield an intel- 
ligent obedience fully as complete, and of ten times the value, for 
it held out in times of peril and danger, when the slavish sort 
would be sure to fail. And so it is with the whole theory of our 
American institutions. They are founded on equality and jus- 
tice to all, and supported and guarded by the intelligence of 
the people, and will stand shocks that would throw other nations 
into chaos most deplorable. How clearly this is sho^vn by the 
result of the war of the rebellion. Captain Hamilton, of the 
South Carolina, shared in these apprehensions of danger I have 
mentioned, and made every preparation possible to guard and 
protect himself in any emergency. In talking this matter over 
with Mr. White, my fellow passenger, last Summer, he alluded 
to a conversation between himself and Captain Hamilton, which 
he had once before repeated to me in San Francisco. It is 
worth giving, as it illustrates this point of our early California 
history. Captain Hamilton was a fine, intelligent looking man, 
large and well built. He was just the beau-ideal of an Ameri- 
can merchant ship commander. As he paced the quarter-deck, 
his dark grey ej'es seemed to take in every spar, rope, sail and 
man on board that whole ship. As you looked at him, you felt 
he was a power, and a power in Avhich you could implicitly trust. 
Mr. White said: " It was our third day out and the first fine 
day we had, comparatively speaking; for it was yet gloomy and 
rough. I was seated by my wife trying to assume a cheerful 
tone about things in general, so as to encourage her, when the 
captain suddenly turned round from his walk on the quarter- 
deck, came directly towards us and took a seat by us, saying; 




82 PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 

with a calm sort of smile: ' Good morning to you both; good 
morning, Mrs. White. How do you feel ? Three days off of 
one hundred and fifty. How do you think you will hold out?' 
'Oh, I will do first rate, captain; I made up my mind, you 
know, before we started, to stand it; and now there is nothing 
else for me to do, and I have no wish to do anything else and 
have no regrets whatever.' 'I am glad to hear 3-ou say so, 
Mrs. White, and glad jou look forward so cheerfully to the 
privations of a long passage. The men I do not mind, but I 
cannot help thinking of you all the time.' We both expressed 
our sincere thanks. 'Yes,' he responded; 'I cannot help 
thinking of you both all the time, you are so peculiarly situated; 
and I made up my mind that I would talk to you plainly, for it 
is right to do so, to put you on your guard, and Mrs. '\Vhite has 
shown such courage that she will not be frightened, I am sure.' 
As he now spoke his face assumed a set, detei mined expression, 
and his grey eyes looked fierce, but not cold. I felt the blood 
rush back on my heart, and I saw my wife grow pale, but neither 
of us uttered a word, and the captain continued: ' I have been 
at sea with more j^assengers than I have now, two to one, and 
never feared them any more than I would so many rats; but a 
ship full of my own countrymen is a different thing. Each one 
of these thinks he knows just as much as the captain, if not a 
great deal more, and, of course, they can overpovver the captain 
of a merchant ship if they are so disposed, and take the ship out 
of his hands, and many think that will be the result with most 
of our California going ships at this time. Now, this concerns 
you both more than it does any one else on board, so I thought 
I would just tell you what I will do in case I find I cannot main- 
tain myself in command, and I want your full consent. My two 
first officers are with me, and I shall consult no one else. I 
have plenty of small arms and sixty pair of ' ruffies,' an article I 
never took to sea before, and if the passengers undertake to get 
the ship away from me they will find it no child's play; but if I 
see they are about to succeed, I will init hei^ down. Yes; I will 
take this ship, and you in it, safe in my command to San Fran- 
cisco, if the Lord spares my life and allows her to float, or sink 
her with all on board! What do you say, both of you?' I felt 
a choking sensation, but, without saying a word, I turned to my 
wife. She was pale, but perfectly composed, and without the 
least hesitation said in a quick, decided voice: ' Yes, captain; 



PIONEEE TIMES IN CVLIFORNIA. 83 

if they dare take the ship from you, sink her! We are perfectly 
Batis&ed.' The captain instantly rose to' his feet, and, extending 
his hand to my wife, said: ' All right, Mrs. White; just the an- 
swer I exjDccted from you. We will do it, as sure as there is a 
Grod in Heaven.' Proud of the cool courage of my little wife, 
I then said: 'Now, captain, that is settled; but let me assure 
you that your fears are totally unfounded. I am i^erfectly 
satisfied there are 100 of the 150 passengers now on board that 
would die fighting by your side sooner than see the ship go 
out of your command.' 'I. hope so; I hope you are right; we 
shall soon see.' In about ten days after this conversation, the 
captain again came to where my wife and I were seated on deck. 
He was all smiles, and looked most happy. After taking a seat 
he said: 'Since I last talked with you I have become acquainted 
with most of the passengers, and I find you are right in your 
estimate of their characters. There are at least 125 of them as 
true and good men as ever trod a deck, and will stand by me 
while there is a plank left under us.' Of all the ships that left 
Atlantic American ports in 1849, for California, two were taken 
by the passengers from the captains, but in both these instances 
the captains proved to be worthless drunkards, and the justifi- 
cation was so plain that no one was prosecuted." 



CHAPTER VIII. 

FIRST IMPRESSIONS OF SAN FRANCISCO-ITS HURRY OF BUSINESS— MEETING 
OLD FACES— $7,000 GAIN ON AN INTESTMENT OF NOTHING- A LESSON FROM 
"TONY"— FIRST BRICK BUILDING-JOHN A. McGLYNN AND ONE OF SAN 
FRANCISCO'S TWO WAGONS— THE MONTHLY MAIL-CURIOUS GO\'ERNMENT 
ACCOUNTS— MR. McGLYNN AT THE GREAT FIREr 

Now we are all on shore in San Francisco, what do we find ? 
What do we see all around us ? AccordJJig to the " Annals/' we 
should find a crowd of men and lewd women, both lost to every 
thought of restraint and decency. Never was a falser represen- 
tation made. No; we found ourselves surrounded by a fast, 
rushing, surging people, where every hour of daylight appeared 
of immense value to them. No one had time to talk to you, ex- 
cept on business. You met men you had never seen before, 
whose names yon did not know, or care to know, and did busi- 
ness with them, often involving thousands, with perfect trust in 
their word, for it was worth no man's while to tell a lie, even 
if he had that mean propensity, in those days; and, if such a 
fellow there was, he was soon found out and elbowed out of the 
way, and that was the end of Idm. As I hurried along Mont- 
gomery street, on the second day of my arrival, I met a young 
man I had known in New York as a clerk in a hardware store. 
I only knew his first name, and that was " Tony." I did not 
know that he had left for California. " Hello, Tony, is that 
yourself?" " Oh, yes; I came across Mexico with Frank Turk, 
who is here also. How long are you here. Gray?" '-'Nearly 
two days." " What have you done since you came ? How much 
have you made ?" ' ' Not a dollar, so far. " " No ? Why, I have 
made $7,000; but then I have been here ten days." "Tell a 
fellow how you made it." " Why, I went up here on this street 
they call Sacramento street, and I saw eight lots advertised for 
sale there, I went to the owners and bought them all, though 
I had not ten dollars to my name; but the holder of the lota 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 85 

gave me until four o'clock in the afternoon to get the money; so 
before that hour I had sold five of the lots for just the price of 
the eight, and this forenoon I sold the last of the other three, 
by which I netted in the transaction just $7,000." " But, Tony, 
suppose you had failed in selling, what would you have done?" 
" Oh, what would I have done ? Oh, in that case, I would just 
explain that I failed in getting the money, and what could he 
do?" " Well, but I have some goods, you know." "Well, sell 
the goods, Gray, as soon as you can. Get rid of them in some 
way, put the money in your pocket and dash in, just as I have. 
But where are you going now?" "Well, I am going to see 
Frank Ward and C. L. Boss on some business." " Have you a 
letter of introduction to either of them? If you have, never 
present it; no one here has time to read such things. No one 
cares ever to know your name. If you are the right sort of 
a man everything goes smoothly here. So don't bother about 
letters of introduction. They are only lauglaed at and thrown 
unread into the waste basket. I just met a man," Tony con- 
tinued, "this morning, I had done some business with, and 
I asked him the name of his partner, and he answered, ' Oh, I 
have only been in with him two months, and I never thought of 
asking him his name.' That is our style in California; but in a 
few days you will understand it yourself. So, good morning." 
As Tony left, I could not help laughing at the lesson I had just 
received in " the ways of the place." Poor Tony, what has be- 
come of him I know not. I hope he may be rich and happy 
somewhere. His career in California was short and successful, 
with an end that might have been anticipated from such a reck- 
less beginning. 

At this time, July, 1849, there was just one brick building on 
Montgomery street. It stood on the west side, some 200 feet 
north of Sacramento street. It was a two-story, large house, 
having a frontage of, perhaps, 100 feet on Montgomery street, 
with a sort of a porch or piazza along the front. It was owned 
by Howard, Mellis & Co., old-time Californians. About the last 
of July I was surprised one day to see this building undergoing 
alterations and i'ej)airs of every sort. The result was that it was 
cut into offices and stores, with one large store on the grouTid 
floor, over the door of which now appeared a flaming, large sign, 
of "Bleaker, Van Dyke & Co.," auctioneers, with an additional 
notice in small letters that JVIr. Bleaker, a relative of the famous 



86 PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 

auctioneer of that name in New York city, would devote his 
whole attention to the auction branch of the business. I had 
that day purchased an invoice of goods, and it occurred to me 
to try some of them at auction; so I went to the store, and the 
first person I saw was Tony, who, I soon found, was no other 
than Mr. Bleaker, and that was the first time I knew his name. 
He received me cordially, saying: " Well, Gray, what do you 
think of our doings here ? We rented this large lot and all this 
building from Howard, Mellis & Co. for two years at $3,000 a 
month. We have cut it up so that we get $8,000 a month rent 
and the use of this store." I, of course, congratulated him on 
such a good start, and put my business in his hands. He at- 
tended to it well, and we had many transactions afterward 
equally satisfactory. This firm made money very fast, and, I 
think, it was in the early part of '50 that Tony sold out to his 
partners for $200,000, $50,000 cash down and three notes of $50,000 
each, at six, twelve and eighteen months. There was a clause in the 
notes providing that, in case the buildings were destroyed by fire 
before the notes became due, that fact should cancel the obliga- 
tion to pay them. Tony, of late, had begun to gamble, and 
was losing heavily, and this was, in fact, the reason he sold out, 
as his partner refused to continue any longer with him. When 
he sold out, his intention was to return to New York at once, 
where he had left a charming, young wife, but one more game 
must he have before leaving San Francisco forever, so that night 
he visited Jim Recket's handsomely furnished gambling rooms 
on Clay street. At the dawn of day the next morning he wished 
Jim and every dollar of his $50,000 a last good-by— the $50,000 
forever, but not so Jim Recket, for Tony came back the next 
night and put up the six month note, and at daylight the next 
morning wished good-by to that also. The next night Tony 
again tried his luck, and lost the twelve month note. As he was 
leaving the saloon, Jim Recket, who was a sort of prince in his 
business, coolly said to him: " Now, you confounded fool, go to 
your old partners, tell them what an ass you have made of your- 
self, and ask them to let you have a few thousand on that last 
note, and leave in the steamer that goes to Panama to-day. If 
they won't do it, come to me, and I will get some one to do it. 
Do as I tell you, or to-morrow you will not have a dollar. I 
would not have cleaned you out, but I saw you were on it, and 
I might as well have it as any one else." Tony did as Recket 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 87 

told bim, and his partners did advance $10,000 on the last note, 
and with that money, and the note indorsed with this payment, 
he left for New York that very day. My recollection is that Dr. 
Harris afterwards told me that Tony lost every dollar of the 
$10,000 playing jjoher on the steamer; so Tony met his poor 
young wife just as poor as when he left her, for a fire did come 
before any one of these notes became due, sweeping away Van 
Dyke & Co.'s building, so that these notes were never paid. 

The same day I met Tony I met John A. McGlynn. He was 
leading two half- wild mules. " Why, John, what are you going 
to do with those rats? Did you buy them?" "Yes; of course I 
did. We brought a wagon and harness with us from New York, 
and I am going to hitch up those mules and go to teaming. I 
can make more money that way than any other, for there is but 
one wagon in San Francisco besides ours, and that is the one 
owned by Howard, Mellis & Co." "Where did you get the 
mules ?" " My partner and myself walked out through the sand 
to the Mission Dolores, and we bought them of an American we 
found there, of the name of Parker. We did not meet a 
human being on the way to the IMission but two American Ore- 
gon boys, about twelve and sixteen years of age. They had no 
shoes on, nor much clothes either. They had axes on their 
shoulders, so we asked them how much they made a day cutting 
wood. They said an ounce each; so I said to my partner that if 
such looking boys could make $16 a day, it showed that we had 
not struck the wrong country after all." 

John A. McGlynn was so well known in California that a few 
words in relation to him may not be uninteresting to you. He 
is the best representative of those times that I can draw to my 
mind. He was an out-and-out Californian in all his manners 
and ways. For the four years I resided in San Francisco 
McGlynn and myself were warm friends, and in after years, 
when I visited San Francisco, if I did not meet John and have a 
regular sit-down talk with him, I did not feel as if I had been in 
the city. As a man, he was as honest as the sun; as a friend, 
there were few like him, and none more unselfish or better. 
He had but few personal enemies and many friends. As I was 
saying, he commenced his career in San Francisco by hitching 
up his wild California mules to the wagon brought into the 
country by White, McGlynn & Co., and started as a regular 
teamster. He wore a red flannel shirt and an old white hat. 



8V) PIONEEB TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 

wbicli will be well remembered by San Francisco '49ers. This 
firm soon picked up a second wagon, for wliich they paid some 
enormous price, and the first driver they hired for the sec- 
ond team was a young lawyer who had studied law with New 
York's favorite Senator, Daniel S. Dickenson. This lawyer's 
turning teamster amused John very much, so that, in writing 
home to his mother in New York, he said: "We have to-day 
hired a lawyer to drive a mule team. That is all the use lawyers 
are out here. We pay him $175 a month. Then, when you meet 
Judge White, my partner's brother, tell him this." Mrs. 
McGlynu, John's mother, wrote in reply: " I saw Judge White 
and told him what you said, and he told me to say to you that 
he, as a lawyer, must say you could not have done better in the 
selection of a driver, and that he had no doubt your mule team 
would be well and profitahhj handled, for that the whole busi- 
ness of a lawyer is to know how to manage mules and asses, so 
as to make them pay." In three or four months later there 
were all sorts of vehicles used for hauling goods and lumber in 
San Francisco. There was the Pennsylvania heavy wagon, the 
Boston unwieldy dray, the New York light dray, the New Or- 
leans outlandish dray, and many other sorts, suitable and unsuit- 
able. Fine American horses began also to show themselves in 
San Francisco. Every man in the drayiug business looked up 
to John as a leader. In case of a disj)ute, his decision was 
always taken as law. Howard, Mellis & Co, 's fine wagon and 
team, the only one in the city at that time equal to those John 
controlled, Avas driven by a Chileno, a powerfully built man. 
Goods were mostly, at that time, delivered from the ships in 
lighters at the foot of Sacramento street, at a little wharf about 
a hundred feet long, extending from where Sansome street now 
is to the water. 

When a ship was discharging, so many drays of all sorts, 
mostly drawn by half-wild, unbroken horses, would crowd to 
this landing place, that great confusion would ensue. To remedy 
iiliis, the draymen held a meeting, over which John presided, 
and adopted regulations to govern such cases. 

The next day there was a jam at the little wharf as usual; all, 
however, governed themselves by the rules adopted, except the 
driver of Howard, Mellis & Co. 's team. He dashed in his heavy 
American mules, regardless of whom he discommoded. John 
ordered him to take his place according to the rule in such caseSj 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 89 

but he paid no attention to the order. John gave the order 
again, and this time accompanied with a welt of his New Orleans 
driver's whip on the Chileno man's shoulders. In an instant 
more they had both leaped from their wagon seats to the 
ground. The Chileno rushed toward Mack with bowie-knife in 
hand. John was unarmed. He was left-handed, for which the 
Chileno was not jjrepared, and John's blow dropped him to the 
ground, and in an instant he had him pinioned fast, and held 
him so until he promised good behavior. On regaining his feet, 
the Chileno invited all hands to drink, and John never had a 
warmer personal friend in after times than that driver. Through 
all the year of '49 we had but one mail a month, via Panama. 
"When the steamer arrived with the mail the town was in excite- 
ment, and a rush to the Postoffice for letters was in order, 
without any pretence of doing it in order, except in one respect, 
as follows: There was but one delivery window, and a line was 
formed from this window, always of immense length. The 
Postoffice was then in the old adobe at the upper side of the 
Plaza. At these times I have often seen the line extend from 
the Postoffice across the Plaza and down Clay street nearly to 
Montgomery. On one of these occasions I took my place in the 
line, about three o'clock in the afternoon. Some distance ahead 
of me in the line, I saw John McGlynn quietly reading a news- 
paper. I j)ulled a paper from my pocket and followed his ex- 
ample. So we progressed slowly and surely, but more slowly 
than surely. 

It was nine o'clock in the evening when John reached the 
delivery window. Just then the round, fat face of a little 
Englishman employed in the Postoffice appeared at the open 
square, and said, in a loud, authoritative voice: " No more let- 
ters to-night. It is nine o'clock." And down he slapped the 
slide. John instantly tapped loudly on the pane of window 
glass. The fat little man turned around and looked; John 
beckoned to him to draw near, saying: " What did you say, 
sir?" The little official put his face up close to the pane of 
glass, saying in the same loud voice: "Are you deaf , fellow ? 
I said no more letters to-night!" 

He had hardly said the last word when Mack's fist came crash- 
ing through the glass, right on top of the little man's nose, 
lapng him full length on the Postoffice floor, spouting blood 
like a whale when struck by a harpoon. Our whole line, of 



00 PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFOENIA. 

course, gave John tliroe hearty clieers. Mack turned round to 
us and said, in the coolest way, " Keep in your line, boys; it is 
only a little Englishman that did not know ' our ways.' I had 
to give him a lesson, that is all. Keep your line, boys." 

A man by the name of Short, who was employed in the Post- 
office and who knew McGlynn, now came running to the window, 
and, again opening the delivery slide, called out: " Oh, Mr. 
McGlynn, do not let them pull down the door. "We will deliver; 
we will deliver;" and so they did while there was a man to ask 
for a letter that night. I, of course, enjoyed the scene very much; 
but I felt sure John would be called up before the Alcalde the 
next day. So, when next! met him, I asked him if any trouble 
had come to him out of the matter. " Trouble," said he, "why 
of course not. Colonel Greary called on me the next day, and 
made the most ample apology for having told them to shut the 
window at nine. He said he had poor pay, and but few clerks 
allowed him by the Government; so I excused him, and we had 
a drink and parted the best of friends, the Colonel assuring me, 
over and over again, that nothing of the kind should happen 
again." I laughed immoderately at this, while Mack pretended 
not to see anything strange or ludicrous in it, but I saw from 
the twinkle of his eye that he enjoyed the Postmaster's calling 
to apologize. "Look at my hand," he continued; " it has two 
cuts on it; whether from the glass or the Englishman's nose, I 
cannot tell." 

E. Harrison was the Collector of the Port of San Francisco in 
1849. There was no regularity in the way the duties were col- 
lected. Harrison was appointed by Governor Mason or Gov- 
ernor Riley, and told to collect the duties according to the laws 
of the United States, as nearly as he could. He did so, I be- 
lieve, to the best of his judgment, and I hope honestly, but he 
kept few, if any accounts, and very few assistants or clerks. 
Generally, when a ship arrived, its captain would call on the 
Collector and give a full exhibit of his cargo. The Col- 
lector then sent for each of the owners or consignees of the 
goods. They showed their invoices, and the Collector, or his 
clerk, made out a statement of what each merchant should -paj. 
This the merchant paid, without any dispute or hesitation. The 
Collector then took the money, put it into a sack, without mak- 
ing any book account of it. "When he had any expenses to pay, 
that ho thought were chargeable to the Government, he paid 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 91 

them out, and what was left in the sack was kept for Uncle Sam 
until he should call for it. When a sack got full under this 
process, it was sewed up and laid aside, and another put in the 
process of filling. These sacks were made of heavy canvas, or 
buckskin. Stealing, at this time in San Francisco, was almost 
unknown, which may account for Mr. Harrison's not being par- 
ticularly careful of his sacks, as would appear from a circum- 
stance told me by John McGlynn. John said his firm had done 
some draying for the Custom House to the amount of four or 
five hundred dollars. He called on the Collector for it. Mr. 
Harrison looked at the bill and said: "All right. Mack." "Here, 
Tom," speaking to his only clerk; " go up stairs, and under the 
table to the left hand side you will see five buckskin sacks full 
of gold. The top one you will find open. Out of that pay Mr. 
McGlynn his bill of $475, and put the sack back, just as you 
found it." "Yes, Mr. Harrison, I will do so; but you are mis- 
taken in the number of the sacks there. There are only four in 
all." " Oh, yes, Tom; I know there are five, for I counted them 
yesterday, when I put that last one there." "No, Mr. Hurri- 
gon; you are mistaken. I know, for I coilnted them this morn- 
ing, when I paid that boatman his bill out of the open sack." 
" Now, Tom, I know you are mistaken, and I will just stand the 
dinners for us three that there are four full sacks and one 
nearly full, which is open." "I will take that bet," said Tom. 
All proceeded upstairs, and, to the Collector's surprise, Tom was 
right; so they went to the restaurant, and the bet was paid. 
The clerk and Mack laughed heartily, and the latter had an idea 
that the clerk had the cream of the joke. Soon after this. Col- 
lector James Collier arrived with President Taylor's commission 
in his pocket. He was a large, pompous man, disagreeable in 
his manner, and had no faith in California, except as a j)lace 
to make money and then clear out from, before " the bottom 
fell out," as was his favorite expression. On arriving. Collier 
called on Harrison at his " Custom House " rooms. He was all 
pomposity, and wished to know when it would be convenient for 
Mr. Harrison to turn over the office of Collector to him. " Now, 
right away," said Harrison; "come along with me." Collier 
followed. " Now," said Hari'ison, "here is the room; the rent 
of it is paid up to the first of next month. These two desks and 
these four chairs belong to the Government, for I paid for them 
out of the money I collected, and here are twenty-four sacks of 



92 PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 

cash." As Harrison pointed to the cash, he turned to leave the 
room. "Sa%" said ColHer, "before you go, please count that 
cash out to me." "Count it out yourself, Mr. Collier, if you 
wish it counted. I have not the least idea how much is there, 
nor do I care, as to that matter. I know all I ever collected, 
except my salary and expenses, is there — that is, if no one stole 
any of it. So good morning, Collector; I hoj)e you will have 
luck in your new position. I am glad you have come, for I was 
terribly tired of the business." So Collier made a great flourish 
of counting the money before witnesses, and of reporting the 
matter to Washington. 

When the desolating fire of May 4, 1851, swept the city, the 
Chief of the Fire Department, ¥. D. Kohler, was absent in Sac- 
ramento, and John A. McGlynn, being his first assistant, had to 
take charge of that terrible battle against the devouring flames, 
and acquitted himself well. All night did the firemen work as 
firemen never worked before. They had to use the old-fashioned 
fire engines, which were worked by hand. Daylight came to 
find the flames not yet subdued. John's men were all getting 
exhausted, and he was pressing every able-bodied man he could 
see into the service, to help the poor fellows who had worked so 
faithfully. He spied a huge, comfortable-looking individual 
sauntering down Sacramento street, who wore a light-colored, 
heavy pea-jacket. His hands were thrust into its pockets, and 
as he walked he had an air of self-complacency that indicated 
that he was rather enjoying the scene before him. His expres- 
sion of face plainly said: " Work on, you chaps, there at that 
engine. As for me, this is none of my funeral." He was, in 
fact, of that class then known in San Francisco as " Sydney 
Ducks." John stepped up to him, and said, in a quick, decided 
voice: " Here, friend, give us a hand at this engine. The boys 
are very tired." The Sydney man muttered something in reply, 
which John did not hear, and passed on. In ten minutes the 
fellow sauntered back again, looking rather contemptuously at 
the tired-out workers. Mack could not stand his insolent way 
of acting any longer; so, stepping directly in front of him, he 
said: " Here, friend, turn right in and help those boys." At 
the same time he laid his hand on his collar and gave him a 
slight jerk to face him for the engine. The Sydney man drew 
back indignantly, and made a blow at John's outstretched arm 
to knock it from his collar. In an instant John's left fist. 



HOKEEK TIMES IN CALIFOEXL\. 93 

clenched into hard iron, came like a trip-hammer on the nose 
and about the eyes of the Sydney man, completely confusing 
him, and before he could recover his senses John, with one or 
two powerful jerks, brought hira to the shaft of the engine. 
Here, without an effort at resistance, the fellow laid hold, and 
worked with the rest; but the blood spurted from his nose and 
made a terrible sight, so John whispered to one of his men that 
he would walk down the street, as if to examine one of the 
other engines, and that as soon as he was a little way oft to tell 
the Sydney man to run. These directions were carried out to 
the letter, and when Mack returned the boys told him that, for 
a fat man, that Sydney man had made the best time they ever 
saw at a foot-race. 

At this time Frank Tilf ord was City Eecorder — or Police 
Judge, as that official is now called. While holding Court the 
next day after the fire, a large, fat man, wearing a heavy pea- 
jacket, his nose all swollen, and his ej^es bunged ujo, made his 
appearance and addressed the Judge : " Your Honor, my name 
is Jenkins. I am a free-born Englishman, just arrived, three 
days ago, from Sydney, and I now come to your Honor to de- 
mand justice for an outrageous attack upon my person by a f.re- 
man, whose number I have taken down from the cap he Avore 
when he assaulted me." As he spoke he handed the Judge the 
number. He then went on to give the Judge a very correct ac- 
count of the whole circumstance. The Judge listened patiently, 
and with some difficulty preserved his gravity, as he at once rec- 
ognized McGlynn as the chief in the play. Then he addressed 
Jenkins thus: " Sir, I have heard you state your case, and have 
to say to you that it is most fortunate for you that tlie fireman 
whose number you have given me is not now here to hear your 
story, or my duty would compel me to fine you $100, and im- 
prison you in the County Jail for thirty days, for disobeying the 
order of that fireman. This, sir, would have been the result on 
your own statement.'' Jenkins, on hearing this, glanced with 
his blurred eyes all round the Court-room, as if in fear that Mc- 
Glynn might appear, and then made a rush for the door, and 
was once more on a quick run. 

This scene amused Judge Tilf ord very much, and when re- 
peating it over to McGlynn they both enjoyed a hearty laugh. 
From these anecdotes of McGlynn's pioneer life, if you were not 
personally acquainted with him, you might suppose him to be 



94 PIONEER TIMES IX CALIFOEXIA. 

rough and quarrelsome, but this would be a mistake. He was 
always polite, affable, and gentle and mild as a woman in his 
daily intercourse with all with whom he came in contact. He 
was sensitive to wrong or discourtesy offered, but generous and 
forgiving towards all. One day, in 1850, it was rumored around 
that the orphans in the Market street asylum were in danger of suf- 
fering from want of actual necessaries. Some persons assembled 
to plan relief; a jDroposition was adopted that one hundred per- 
sons should be called upon, asking each one to give $10; no 
more and no less was to be taken. It so happened that I was 
placed on this committee of solicitation. There was no get-off, 
so I started out with two others, and we soon got the thousand 
dollars required. When we went to John McGlynn, he heard 
what we said, and without replying he took from his pocket a 
fifty -dollar slug, a sort of coin then in circulation in San Francisco, 
and handed it to us. One of the committee began to get out $40 in 
change, but John said : " No; I want no change." "No, no," 
said I ; " that will not do, John. You shall not give more than 
any one of the rest of us. Our instructions are, not to allow 
any one to give over $10." "Oh, well," said he, "keep 
the slug ; it is a sort of a coin that is getting very unpopular 
here, and I do not want it, and the orjphans do want it. Enter it 
as $10 if you will." But we entered John A. McGlynn $50 on 
that subscription list, and gave the "unpopular coin " to the 
orphans. 

As, in years afterwards, poor John passed the portals to a bet- 
ter world, let us believe without a doubt that he found before 
him, in the great ledger in which is kept an account of all our 
actions here below, that entry of the " unjDopular coin" bright 
and dazzling on the credit side of his account. 



CHAPTER IX. 

THE THREE CLASSES OF CITIZENS— THE GENTLEMEN POLITICIANS-THE CAUSE 
OP THE VIGILANCE COMMITTEES- THE TYPICAL MINER— WELCOME ARRIVALS. 
IJfGENlOUS rURNITURE-EARLY LAW COURTS. 

From tlie digression in the last chapter let me go Lack to 
what I was sapng of the general appearance of San Francisco 
and its inhabitants, on the last day of June, 1849. All, as I 
have said, was bustle and rush in every sort of business. There 
was not much talking about it ; but, on the contrary, every one 
had a remarkably quiet, but earnest and off-hand sort of a way 
of dealing that was fascinating to one engaged in trade. You 
made up your mind, after looking around for two or three days, 
that the immigration to California was dividing itself into three 
classes — firsts the earnest, industrious workers, who had the 
will, and would find the way, to accomplish success in their new 
homes. This class comprised at least four-Ji/'ths of the American 
immigrants, and perhaps as large a share of the immigrants from 
other lands. The American population at this time seemed to 
outnumber all others twenty to one. The next class that at- 
tracted your attention was a class of idle loungers around the 
gambling saloons — fellows who came to California with an idea 
that they could get gold without working for it. They never 
had worked in their lives, and would rather starve than do it 
now. This class did not amount to ten per cent, of the immi- 
grants, but was large enough to breed terrible mischief in the 
near future. There was then a third class, composed, perhaps, 
of ten per cent, more of the immigrants. They wore gentlemen 
politicians. They had been politicians in their own homes, but 
had there run themselves out, and now came to California to 
make a new beginning, to take a new start, as it were. Out of 
this class grew the treasury thieves and the real estate plunder- 
ers of San Francisco, for the first four years of her existence aa 



9G PIONEER XniEfi IN CALIFORNIA. 

an American city. In making this assertion, of course I do not 
mean to condemn this whole class as bad men. No ; what I 
mean is, that, as a class, they were a bad crowd. Look over the 
names of the delegates to the Monterey Constitutional Conven- 
tion, and, though mostly good men, not ouo solid business man 
is to be found there, if you except some old-time ranchero. If 
you look over the names of the members of the first three Legis- 
latures, the same fact will appear. Look over the names of the 
San Francisco Board of Aldermen, for the first four years, and 
it is very little more than a list of her despoilers. The reason of 
all this is very plain. The business men were independent of 
politics, and despised the business, leaving it to be manipulated 
by the gentlemen loafers of the third class, who could not or 
would not make a living in any other way. This third class 
differed from the second class, in so far that the}'' pretended to 
respectability, and held themselves high above the second class. 
They were educated, very polite, and sly in their movements, 
made great joretentions to honesty and to a self-sacrificing spirit 
for the public good, while their time was wholly occupied wdth 
schemes to get themselves into ofiice, and, after they got in, Avith 
plans to rob the treasury and plunder the city generally. Take 
the second and third class together, and, although not one-fifth 
of the men of San Francisco, yet they were so numerous and 
made themselves so prominent, that to a stranger they seemed 
ten times the number that they were. These composed the 
crowd that the authors of the " Annals " describe, all through 
their book, as " the peoj)le of San Francisco." Out of this class 
came the " highly respectable citizens " who sj^ent their time, 
night after night, at gambling tables ; out of this class come the 
"high dignitaries " who attended magnificent entertainments 
" by invitation" at disreputable houses, such as the " Annals " 
describe. That the authors of the " Annals " met Judges, Legis- 
lators and Aldermen in many carousals at such houses, I have 
not the least doubt, nor will any one, when it is considered that 
such officials, at that time, often belonged to this third class I 
have described, who were almost all loathsomely immoral in their 
lives. 

Now, how was it with the business men ? Say, the other four- 
fifths of the people of San Francisco. I assert it as a fact, that 
they seldom, or never, entered a gambling saloon, except as 
a matter of curiosity for a few moments, once or perhaps twice. 



PIONEER TIMES IN CAIIFORNIA. 97 

I say, further, that if a business man in San Francisco found 
any of his clerks or employees frequenting such places ho at 
once discbarged them as unsafe. The routine of business in San 
Francisco, at that time, was terribly fatiguing. The business 
day was from daylight until nine or ten o'clock at night. Not a 
man in business but lay down at night tired and worn out with 
the labors of the day. They worked like men to build up here 
a home for themselves. They worked not to prove false to the 
friends at home, who aided them in their California enterprise. 
They worked for the wives and children they left behind them, 
and strained every nerve to get into a j^osition to be surrounded 
once more with those so dearly loved. Yes; hundreds and hun- 
dreds of these men are now known among us, or their children, 
and we are proud of them. But where are those who composed 
the second and third classes ? There is hardly one of them left; 
and what has become of their plunder? It has melted away in 
their hands, and has, like most of them, disappeared. Of course 
there were exceptions, as there always is, to every rule. There 
were some honorable men who held office in the early days in 
San Francisco, and so there were some precious rascals among 
business men; but they likewise were few. The greatest fault 
the business men were guilty of was that they would neither 
hold office themselves nor give any attention to the elections. 
In this way the objectionable classes managed the whole thing. 
It was this neglect that brought on the first and second Vigilance 
Committees, which in the end had such damaging influences on 
the prosperity of the whole State. Let me here quote for you a 
passage from Governor Burnett's Message to the first Legisla- 
ture of California, as showing his opinion of the character of the 
pioneers. He says: 

"We have a new community to organize, a new State to build up. We 
have also to create and sustain a reputation in the face of the misconceptions 
of our character that are entertained elsewhere. But we have the most ex- 
cellent materials out of which to construct a great community and a groat 
State — emigration to this country from the States east of the lloclvy Moun- 
tains consists of their most energetic, enterprising and intelligent population, 
while the timid and the idle, who have neither the energy nor the means to 
get here, were left to remain at home." 

Governor Burnett was our first Governor under the State 
Constitution, and was one of the purest men that ever held jDub- 
lic office i^n any count; y. Ho wrote this message while smarting 



98 PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNU. 

under the insulting comments of the Eastern and foreign press 
on us here in California. The good Governor speaks nothing 
but what every one knows to be truth, as to the character of our 
jjioneers; but the closing words of the jDaragraph caused us all 
to enjoy a good laugh, for the inference is, that all the people re- 
maining in the Eastern States were "timid," "idle," lame 
ducks, as it were, without money or friends. 

At the tenth annual picnic of the Tuolumne Reunion Associa- 
tion, held at Badger's Park, this last summer. Rev. T. Hamilton, 
a highly esteemed clergyman, in his eloquent address on tliat 
occasion, alluded to the general character of the pioneers, and 
as his testimony is of the highest character, I quote a passage 
taken from the Call newspaper's report. He says: 

"The founders of the State were, bj' force of circumstances, choice spirits. 
The distance to be traveled and the obstacles to be encountered reqiiired that 
they should be men of a certain degree of wealth, and full of energy and 
manliness. Most of them were men of education, many of them graduates 
of some American or European university. In his own pioneer congregation 
of five hundred there were no loss than twenty distinguished graduates. 
The Influence of such men was always exerted in the right direction, and 
consequently had a beneficial effect upon the community." 

The New York Trihitne, of January 26, 1849, says: 

"The class of our citizens which is leaving us for this El Dorado is of the bet- 
ter sort — well educated, industrious and respectable — such as we regret to 
part with. The rowdies, whom we could well spare, cannot, as a general 
thing, fit themselves out for so long a voyage." 

That such balls were given at houses like those described in 
the "Annals" was of course true, and that they were attended 
by judges and other oflice-holders, I have but little doubt; but 
it is utterly false to assert that the respectable business men, 
comprising so large a share of our community as they did, ever 
attended such balls, or consorted, as the " Annals " assert they 
did openly, with such company as the authors of the " Annals " 
say they met at those houses by invitation. 

I recollect a difficulty growing out of an attempt at a joke in 
regard to one of these balls, in 1849. A young man procured an 
invitation to a ball of this character to be sent to a friend of his, 
a Mr. B., a merchant of the first respectability, who to-day is 
well known in San Francisco and resjDected by all. After the 
invitation was received, the young fellow took care that out- 
siders should know of its reception. At first it created a good 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 99 

deal of amusement at B.'s expense, but the joke was kept up a 
little too long, and ended in a serious quarrel, a challenge, an 
acceptance and a meeting. But no shots were exchanged, as 
friends interfered; and all ended in the young man^s making an 
ample apology. 

It is true that many lucky miners, coming to San Francisco 
from the interior, visixed gambling saloons, lost their money, 
and committed excesses against decency and morality; but it is 
also true that hundreds and hundreds of such, coming from the 
mines, did their business in the city in a quiet, earnest way, 
without committing one act of indiscretion or losing one dollar 
foolishly. 

To look at the returned miners in those days in San Francisco 
the first impression you would get was that they were all of a 
rough cast of men, uneducated and savage. Their uncut hair, 
their long beards, their red flannel shirts, with flashy red 
Chinese scarfs around their waists, the black leather belt be-' 
neath the scarf, fastened with a silver buckle, to which hung 
the handsome six-shooter and bowie-knife, the slouched, wide- 
brimmed hat, the manly, bold, independent look and gait of the 
man as he walked along, made each one look the chief of a 
tribe of men you had no knowledge of before. Get into conver- 
sation with this man, and you will find, to your surprise, in nine 
cases out of ten, a refined, intelligent, educated American, de- 
spising the excesses of the idle and the dissipated. You will 
find his whole heart on his old home and those he has left there. 
Look up as he speaks to j^ou of wife and children and draws 
from beneath his red shirt a photograph of those loved ones, 
and you will find him brushing away tears that have fallen on 
his great shaggy beard. Stand behind such a looking man in 
the long line from the Postoffice window, waiting for his turn to 
get letters. See; he takes his letters from the clerk at the win- 
dow, and his whole frame shakes with emotion, and, as he looks 
at the well known handwriting, his handkerchief is again on his 
face. Here are the sort of pioneers the authors of the "Annals" 
somehow never saw. A circumstance which occurred to myself 
will show how completely the miner's dress of '49 changed and 
disguised him, 

I was busy selling goods in my store, when a miner, just such 
as I have described, entered, announcing that ho wanted to pur- 
chaHO some clothes. I pointed to a pile of men's clothing and 



100 MONEEE TIMES IN CALlEOENlA. 

told him to take what he wanted, and when he had made his 
selections I would tell him what he had to pay. He did as I 
told him, and I went on with my business. In one part of our 
store there was a room curtained off, where my partner slept, 
and occupied as a private apartment. In a few moments the 
miner turned to me, and asked if he could go into this room to 
fit the clothes he had selected. I answered " Yes," without 
even looking at him, or knowing what he had picked out. Being 
in one constant rush of business that morning, I completel}- for- 
got all about this man after he went into the room. In two or 
three hours afterwards I stepped from the store to help to un- 
load a wagon bringing in new goods. When I returned I was 
surprised to find an almost elegantly dressed gentleman stand- 
ing in the store, waiting for me. I supposed he had just come in, 
and yet I was puzzled as to how he could have passed me at the 
store door. He was dressed far better than it was usual for any 
one to dress in San Francisco at that time. He had on a hand- 
some black coat and brown pants and vest, a handsome white 
shirt with black necktie, a pair of fine boots, a nice new hat, 
though not a stovepipe, yet a stylish one compared to the usual 
miner's slouched hat. He was newly and neatly shaved. 

I saluted him with considerable deference, but of course with 
evident wonderment in my manner, for I was puzzling myself to 
think where the mischief such a man could come from. The 
stranger, I thought, half smiled, but answered my salutation and 
inquiry as to what I could do for him, by saying: " Nothing, 
thank you; I merely stepped in to ask the way to the Postoffice." 
" Oh," I said, " I sujDpose you have just arrived; what shijD did 
you come in ? I did not know we had had an arrival this morning." 
" I came across the plains," said my visitor. I looked at him 
from head to foot, but for the life of me I could not make him 
out. I said to myself: " How on earth did this fellow get into 
the store, and I not see him;" but, giving it up as a California 
riddle, I gave him the direction to the Postoffice. He bowed, 
and thanked me with uncommon cordiality, adding, while he 
reached out his hand, that he hoped some day to be able to show 
his sense of the favor I had done him. I took his hand and 
looked at him, completely mystified. As he shook niy hand he 
continued, with a laughing expression in his handsome eyes: 
" Oh, by the way, did you see a rough looking fellow, one of 
those red-shirted miners, come this way this morning ? He 



PIONEER TIMZS IN CALIFORNIA. 101 

wanted to get a new pair of pants. I thought he might have 
have bought them at your store. He is a friend of mine. I 
must be off to join him; so good-by." And he turned slowly to 
leave. For the first time the rough, red-shirted miner I had 
told to go into the room came into my mind. "Why, yes," I 
said: "I do recollect now." ' " Oh, you do recollect such a fel- 
low, then?" " Can it be possible?" said I, as the whole truth 
flashed on my mind. " Yes, that hat is of our stock. That coat, 
those pants are ours. That pair of boots are of our extra fine 
ones." We now both went into a hearty fit of laughing, from 
which we did not recover for some minutes. It appeared that 
while I was engaged in waiting on other customers, this miner 
had selected a full suit from head to foot, and when he went 
into the room he found water, soap and razor, all ready to his 
hand, so he just went to work and completely metamorphosed 
himself, while I had forgotten him altogether. We went together 
to the room where he had dressed, and from under his clothes 
he drew a buckskin sack, containing five thousand dollars in 
gold-dust. After weighing out the price of his clothes he tied 
up the sack and deposited it in our safe. I found tliat he was 
from the State of Virginia, and that he and his brother had come 
across the plains some months before, stopped at the first placer 
mine they had come to, and made this amount. He had come 
down to San Francisco for his letters from home, and to make 
some purchases as a matter of speculation in the mines. He 
was some twenty-three years of age, a perfect gentleman, and 
well educated. After a talk with me, he went for his letters to 
the Postoffice, and soon came back with a large package from 
father, mother, sisters and brothers. So far as he had read they 
were all well, and he was in fine spirits. He retired to our 
private room to read them. On his reappearance, I feared he 
had found bad news, as his eyes were red and he looked flushed, 
" No, no," said he; " they are all first rate, and a favorite sister 
has married a dear friend of ours; but a fellow who has been 
away off in the mountains and plains, as I have, without having 
had a word from home, cannot get such letters as these and be a 
stick or a stone, you know." We continued fast friends while 
he remained in the State; that was until 1854, when he returned 
home with a handsome fortune made in business in the interior. 
As to the female portion of the inhabitants of San Francisco, 
in July, 1849, we found many nice families already here , Some 



102 PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 

had come overland, some from Oregon, among whom Governor 
Burnett's charming family was remarkable. That family of chil- 
dren, then so interesting to us '49ers, stand to-day, deservedly, 
first among the first in social position, an honor to the noble 
mother who never faltered in courage and devotion, amid all the 
privations of a pioneer life. Some families had come by ships 
that had reached there before ours, notably the Architect, from 
New Orleans; the Grey Hound and Grey Eagle, from Baltimore 
and Philadelphia; some, long before, in the Brooklyn, from New 
York, and some who had come with Colonel Stevenson's New 
York volunteers; some from the Sandwich Islands, and some 
from Chile; notably among those from the last named was the 
accomplished family of Doctor Poett, no small addition to our 
society, the eldest daughter soon becoming the wife of Mr. Wm. D. 
M. Howard, one of our most prominent old-time pioneers. In all 
these I only refer to American or European families; but, be- 
sides the American ladies of good family, there were at that 
time several families of the first respectability who were natives 
of Chile, though it is to be regretted that many of those left the 
State a few years later and returned to Chile. From this it will 
be seen that we had quite a good beginning for a family circle in 
July, '49. The American lady who, joerhaps, drew the most at- 
tention at that time in all San Francisco was the wife of Frank 
"Ward. Mr. Ward was then the foremost merchant in San Fran- 
cisco. Mrs. Ward came with her husband from New York; I 
think in the latter part of 1848. She was of one of the very first 
families of her native State. She was young, beautiful and most 
charming in her manners. She was self-sacrificing and unremit- 
ting in her attentions to other American ladies, who were then 
arriving every day. But soon came the sad news that Mrs. 
Ward was dangerously sick, to be followed quickly with the 
mournful tidings of her death. The death of twenty of her first 
male citizens would not have made San Francisco half so lone- 
some and sad as did the death of this one loved and valued lady. 
Mr. Ward then lived in, for those days, a handsome house on 
the corner of Stockton and Green streets, the same Mr. Plume, 
the banker, afterward occupied. The house stands there yet, 
and I never pass the spot without drawing a sigh in sorrow 
for the early death of that pioneer lady ; and, as I look at 
the door, I can in imagination again see her smile of hearty 
welcome to us newcomers of '49. From this time out 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 103 

families increased rapidly, making the place feel like our old ac- 
customed American homo. A little later began to appear in 
our streets excessively dressed women of another class. At first 
they were few in number, but in 1850 they became very numer- 
ous, and made themselves conspicuous in every way they could. 
They were every day to be seen on horseback in twos, fours, and 
sometimes sixes. Men living- by gambling and politics did not 
hesitate to consort openly with them. At the opening of , 1851 
there was, perhaps, one woman of this class for every nineteen 
well-conducted women in San Francisco ; certainly not more 
than that proportion. Yet they made themselves so conspic- 
uous and kept themselves so constantly on parade that one just 
arriving in the city might get the idea that the proportion of the 
bad to the good was much larger. These lost creatures were the 
only class of women known to the authors of the " Annals," it 
should appear from their book. The virtuous wives, daughters 
and sisters of '49ers, who were from morning until late at night 
hard at work at their household duties, seldom having time for 
even a visit to each other, they ignore altogether, and leave the 
impression that there was no such class of pioneers. There was 
very little furniture to be had at that time in San Francisco. 
This gave our lady friends a great deal of trouble; but it was 
surprising how ingeniously they managed to overcome the diffi- 
culty, and make their tents, shanties or houses look neatly fur- 
nished with the few articles they were able to obtain. One even- 
ing I called on a lady friend — a Mrs. T. — who lived in a little 
shanty that stood in the sand bills above Kearny street, in Cali- 
fornia street, then unopened. Everything was as neat as a baby 
house, and I was surprised to see in the apartment they called 
the " sitting room " what looked like a handsome sofa, covered 
with brown linen in the neatest style. I could not help saying : 
" Where did you get that sofa, Mrs. T.?" " Oh, that is a secret," 
she said, while she and her husband both laughed. The hus- 
band then said : "I am prouder of that sofa than if it came 
from New York's most fashionable furniture store." As he spoke 
he showed me that the sofa was contrived out of a long box sad- 
dlery had been imported in. In a few evenings after this I 
called on another lady friend, a Mrs. W., a girl yet in years. 
"When we were eating a supper of her cooking I told the story of 
Mrs. T.'s sofa. " Well," said Mr. W. , "please look at my wife's 
work — the ottoman you are seated on." I did so, and found it 



104 PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 

was fashioned out of a sugar barrel cut down and covered with 
carpet, making it look like a handsome ottoman, that would have 
passed in any room. Such, my young readers, were your moth- 
ers — the women of '49. Patient, frugal, unselfish and hard 
working, you cannot be too proud of them. 

Afterwards, in 1853 and '54, when ladies came to join their 
husbands in California, they found handsome houses elegantly 
furnished, all ready for them to walk into and enjoy, yet many 
of them grumbled and growled at everything. " There was too 
much wind in San Francisco," " too few amusements," "the 
walking was bad on account of the sand." And so it was with 
everything, until some of them actually went off home — or East, 
for there was no home for them any more — thus permanently 
breaking up their families. When I observed this, and thought 
of the women of '49, I could not help repeating Scott's lines : 

" O, woman, in our hours of ease, 
Uncertain, coy, and hard to please, 
And variable as the shade 
By the light quivering aspen made, 
"When pain and anguish wring the brow 
A ministering angel thou!" 

On Sundays, in '49 and '50, I often took great pleasure in 
visiting the churches of the various denominations, just to see 
what progress we were making in the all-important point of ob- 
taining a worthy female population; and I used to find myself 
perfectly astonished at the fast increase of both women and 
children. Their universal attendance at church was, too, a 
striking feature of the women of '49. Every woman and child 
in San Francisco, not siok in bed, it seemed to me, attended 
some church on Sunday, in the forenoon at least. Of course I 
do not allude to the abandoned class when I say this. A pleas- 
ing picture, too, of religious progress in San Francisco at that 
time was the total absence of sectarian bitterness, which too 
often obstructs the progress of true religion in other countries, 
and, in fact, even in our Eastern States. The clergymen, of all 
denominations, in San Francisco — Protestant, Catholic and 
Jewish — worked, each in his own way, like a band of brothers, 
ever ready to praise and commend each other on all proper 
occasions. Shoulder to shoulder, they worked, warring only on 
vice and immorality. Yet these were the men the "Annals" 
tell us "elbowed their way to the gaming table, and uublu shingly 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALIF0KNL4.. 105 

threw down their gold or silver stake.'' Of course there is not 
a shadow of truth in such a statement. 

This good-will between religious people and the untiring 
activity and zeal of the women, accouuts for the wonderful pros- 
perity of the churches of the various denominations in San Fran- 
cisco, that I have before drawn attention to. 

In July, '49, there was no regular law authority in any part 
of California. There were Mcaldes, who executed, in old times, 
an arbitrary authority, but when the Americans came flocking in 
great numbers, the Alcaldes became loth to claim or exercise 
much authority. So the people in their primary capacity dealt 
out justice and decided all disputes, recognizing no ajapeal to 
any higher tribunal. This was not like the Vigilance Committee 
business of after years. This was the action of the whole people, 
made necessary by the want of organized law in the land. The 
good and conservative men of the community were all there, to 
guide and temper the action of the hasty and reckless. The 
difficulty with Vigilance Committees is, that most of the cool, 
wise heads among the people will not join them, and all the bad 
elements of the community are sure to be foremost in them. 
The consequence is, their acts have often been cruel and unjust. 
There is not a county, jjerhaps, in the whole State, where a cruel 
murder — and in some cases more than one — has not been com- 
mitted by the action of Vigilance Committees. Before the meet- 
ing of the first Legislature in San Jose, I never knew an act of 
injustice done by the peoiole, when assembled to deal out pun- 
ishment for crime. Since that time I hardly ever knew of the 
action of a Vigilance Committee that could be wholly approved 
by a conservative man. It was wonderful how well we got on 
in '49, without any sort of government beyond the universally 
sanctioned action of the people, and I have often since ques- 
tioned, in my own mind, if we would not have got on just the 
same ever since, and saved all the money we have paid out for 
thieving legislation and selfish office-holders. But the gentle- 
men loafers who wanted the offices could not stand it, so they 
began to make such a fuss for a State government that Governor 
Riley had to call the Monterey Convention. Since then we 
have been tied hand and foot, to be picked by office-holders at 
their leisure. 

For awhile in '49 we were disturbed by the well-remembered 
organization called the Hounds ; but these fellows were disposed 



1C6 rioxrEK times in califorxia. 

of in one day, never a^ain to show themselves, by the united ac- 
tion and fiat of the whole people. In July, 1849, they were in 
the zenith of their power in San Francisco. They mostly con- 
sisted of the worthless members of Col. Stevenson's regiment of 
New York volunteers, who had been disbanded in Monterey in 
1848. They lived by gambling, and they dressed in a flashy, 
ridiculous style, white vests embroidered beautifully, showy 
silk neckties, fine cloth coats and pants, the coats often lined 
with red silk. They gave out that they had taken San Francisco 
under their protection and were a volunteer police force. On 
Sundays the}^ paraded the streets with a band of music. Idlers 
and loafers from among the newcomers joined them, and their 
numbers looked formidable when on j)^!'^'^!®- We were all 
more or less afraid of them, as they were resjoonsible to no one 
but themselves for their actions, and it was impossible to have 
confidence in them, for in the main they were scalawags of the 
first water. From the way the Hounds are spoken of in the 
" Annals" 3'ou would suppose they were a band of robbers from 
whom no one's property was safe. This was not so. They never 
stole, or were even suspected of it. If any American, man or 
woman, was wronged, he or she would find protection by mak- 
ing aj)plication to them. They were cruel and severe towards 
all but their own countrymen when they undertook to deal out 
punishment for transgressions of any sort. Though we were 
every day getting more and more afraid of this volunteer police, 
as they pretended to be, no one made a movement against 
them. First, because we did not know our own strength at that 
time, and, secondly, because every one had too much of his own 
private business on hand to make it at all prudent or safe for 
him to meddle in any business of a public nature; so the Hounds 
were allowed full swing in regulating, as they called it, the 
government of the city. It was their practice to walk into any 
store they wished and select such articles as suited their fancy 
and Avalk off without paying for them, saying as they left: 
" This is all right; we will see that your place and property are 
protected." As matters stood no one dared to object, and so we 
continued, until one Sunday an American sailor was badly 
beaten in a row with some Chilenos. At that time there were a 
large number of Chilenos living in the part of the city known 
as Clark's Point, and it was here the sailor was beaten. He 
made his complaint to the Hounds. At once the whole gang 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALII'ORNIA, 107 

went to this locality to take revenge . They made an indiscrim- 
inate attack upon the whole nationality, tearing down their 
houses and committing all sorts of excesses. Among the houses 
destroyed was one occupied by an old man, his wife and a beau- 
tiful young daughter. This family was known to several promi- 
nent citizens to be good and virtuous in their lives, and were 
much respected. The Hounds destroyed the house and scattered 
its contents in the street. Then they took the screaming, 
frightened young girl, carried her off, and when the unfortunate 
parents found her she was a swollen corpse from brutality fieud;5 
could not rival. This terribly appalling crime seemed to fill the 
whole atmosphere of San Francisco. Every one appeared to 
know it almost immediately. Men trembled and sickened, as in 
a low voice they talked it over to each other. The Hounds 
themselves seemed to know that there was a cry of vengeance in 
the very air, for the next morning it was found that many of 
the worst of them had fled, never again to be seen in San Fran- 
cisco. Then came the famous meeting of citizens on the Plaza, 
the first mass meeting ever held in San Francisco. At the hour 
named in the call every man in the city seemed there. We 
were all pleased and astonished at our numbers. A volunteer 
police force was at once established on a good basis, and such of 
the Hounds as could be found were arrested, tried and banished 
or j)laced on board a United States man-of-war, then in port, to 
be used by the commander as sailors and turned loose at some 
foreign port. This closed the career of the Hounds in San Fran- 
cisco. It was their first and last outrage, but its devilish wick- 
edness showed the true character of the band, and we all felt the 
greatest relief at their complete su^^pression. 

From the account given of us by the "Annals" j'ou would 
suppose dishonesty and thieving were characteristic of our whole 
community from the first day the American immigration began 
to pour into San Francisco to the day their book was put forth. 
I assure my readers that never was a more false representation 
made, for the truth is, that all through '49 and until the mid- 
Summer months of 1850 there was no such thing known as a 
theft, cither large or small, in San Francisco. Merchants did 
not fear to leave their goods exposed in the most careless yva,j in 
their canvas-walled houses and tents, while they went to church 
or to walk over the hills on Sundays, a common practice with us 
all in '49 and '50. Even our gold was left in our tents, where it 



108 PIONEEi; TIMES IX CALEFOKMA. 

could be easily found if looked for, without the least apprehen- 
sion for its safety. Nor, in all that time, did we lose a dollar's 
worth of either goods or gold. No; nor did I ever hear of an 
insult being offered to a virtuous woman. Yet the "Annals" 
represent that robberies and outrages were so common that no 
lady could live with safety in San Francisco. 

In the late summer months of 1850, the Sydney immigration 
began to pour into San Francisco. Then a change came; for 
London's best educated house-robbers found unsuspecting San 
Francisco an easy place in which to practice their old tricks, and 
they were not slow to improve so in%-iting a field. Our officials 
were engaged altogether in plundering the city of its lauded 
property and the treasury of every dollar paid into it by the tax- 
payers, so they took no notice of these Sydney thieres, or, if they 
did arrest one occasionally, he was sure to be acquitted. This 
state of things continued, only getting from bad to worse, until 
February, 1851, at which time all the well-disposed business 
inhabitants of the city became sensible that something must be 
done, or that they must abandon the city to the office-holders 
and Sydney thieves, who seemed to be in collusion to rob and 
murder us all. Many tirged the formation of a Vigilance Com- 
mittee, to be composed of the best citizens, for the sole object of 
helping the well-disposed officers of the law to bring criminals 
to justice, or to expose and bring to punishment the law officers 
who neglected or refused to do their duty; but men of the Sam 
Brannan stamp called for violence and blood, and in the temper 
of the people they found a large number of their way of thinking. 
So the famous Vigilance Committee of 1851 was formed. Many 
did not join the Committee, yet did not say much against it. as 
they hardly knew what was best under the circumstances. In 
their very first move, if they had followed Sam Brannan's advice, 
urged in many speeches, they would have hanged a man named 
Burdue, who was perfectly innocent of the charge made against 
him. Luckily, however, there were many men of cool judgment 
and high moral standing in the Committee, who checked the 
wild, reckless element led on by Brannan and such men. This 
saved the Committee from a terrible mistake. The proceed- 
ings of the Committee were generally moderate and conducted 
with decency and decorum, and all they did was approved of by 
a large majority of tbe people, up to the Sunday on which they 
took Whittaker and McKenzie from the County Jail and hanged 



PtONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 109 

them in the way they did; for brutal levity characterized the 
whole proceeding- at the place of execution, which shocked tlio 
thinking, law- abiding members of the community. Three- 
fourths of the people of San Francisco denounced the whole 
proceeding as unnecessary and unwarrantable. The morning 
after the execution great numbers who had heretofore sub- 
scribed liberally to the funds of the Committee refused to pay 
another dollar. From that day the Committee was virtually 
abolished. That frightful, bloody scene was their last appear- 
ance in public, for they had lost the confidence of the commu- 
nit}'. The Brannan crowd struggled for a while to keep them- 
selves before the public, but public opinion drove them out of 
sight. There were hundreds of men who connected themselves 
with this Vigilance Committee, either by giving money to its 
treasury or by direct personal service, that did so with the utmost 
reluctance, and regretted that they were, as they conscientiously 
believed, comj)elled to do as they did. This sort of men, when 
the Committee disbanded, wanted as little said about it as pos- 
sible. They said: "If, on the whole, we have done good, all 
right. We took a fearful responsibility on ourselves; let no one 
ever follow our example and do the like. If your officials be- 
come Avicked, reform them within the laws and constitution. Our 
governmentjWith its frequent elections, is formed with that view. 
Be a little patient; in the end ijt will be far better than a Vigi- 
lance Committee." 

The doings of this '51 Vigilance Committee give material for 
a chapter in the history of California's great city that it were far 
better was never written; or, if written, the task should have been 
left to the pen of some truthful, conservative historian. But, 
instead of that, we find it written up in the "Annals " in the 
same glowing, irreligious, piratical style that pervades the whole 
book from cover to cover. The result of the proceedings of the 
Committee was undoubtedly to bring a sense of safety to the 
inhabitants of the city and a relief from a position that was in- 
tolerable. But it was that sort of a feeling of safety that one 
might have who, to escape the grasp of a grizzly bear, flies to the 
protection of a wild bull. While the grizzly is in sight, the bull 
is an agreeable companion; but, alas, what a fearful position to 
be in when the bull has driven the bear out of sight! This illus- 
tration is fair, because it is found out of the question to con- 
duct the operations of a Vigilance Committee without the active 



no 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 



aid of the lowest and worst elements of the community, and 
these elements always get the upper hand and run the Com- 
mittee to serve their own purposes. In this case, though the 
Committee did the good I name, it at the same time did incalcu- 
lable injury to the State. It checked the immigration of good 
and solid men from the older States to ours, particularly of 
families. Capital, always sensitive, shrank away in fear from 
our shores. The many law-abiding people of other States and 
lands, who had begun to send large sums of money to San 
Francisco for investment, at once countermanded their orders, 
and turned away their eyes from a State where it was evident 
anarchy was possible, if not probable, at any moment. If those 
really worthy men, who had sanctioned the formation of this 
Vigilance Committee and supported it with their money, had 
spent half that money and given half the personal attention they 
gave in controlling the action of the Committee to bring about a 
reformation in the administration of the laws of the State, they 
would have effected ten times the good, and, instead of repelling 
capital and immigration, they would have invited a vast increase 
of both. The formation of the Committee was like sending 
forth the declaration, which was untrue in fact, that we were 
unable to live like other civilized communities, under laws 
framed by ourselves. This, of course, could not but retard our 
progress in every way. No good man who had connected him- 
self with the committee wanted himself paraded as an actor in 
its doings. Such men joined it with great reluctance, as I have 
already said, and wanted it forgotten as soon as possible. But 
the authors of the "Annals " drag them all out to view by name, 
besmearing them with laudations and exhibiting them in wood- 
cuts as all crowded around Sam Brannan and men of his stamp, 
with their mouths open in wondering admiration at his reckless, 
lawless harangues they report as made at public meetings called 
by the Committee. They go yet further, and have woodcuts of 
the hanging of the wretches who were executed by the Commit- 
tee inserted in their book. Recollect that this book, the "An- 
nals," was dedicated to the "California Pioneers," and the 
dedication was understood to be acceptable to them. This fact 
undoubtedly indorsed the Vigilance Committee of '51 in all its 
parts by that society. 

What was the consequence of this? In the first place, all the 
small, weak-minded men who saw themselves paraded in the 



tlONfiER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. Ill 

pages of the "Annals" as the heroes whose self-sacrificing dtjeds 
the authors of the "Annals " felt bound to rescue from oblivion, 
became puffed up, and now boasted of what before they had 
taken care to keep to themselves, The really good men, who 
saw themselves ^oaraded with unasked and unwished-for praise, 
did not think it prudent to bring on any discussion by repudi- 
ating what they in sorrow had deemed themselves obliged to do 
in that trying time. This begat a very widespread feeling that 
a Vigilance Committee was a first-vate mode of reforming abuses. 
The restless loafers of the community, who longed once more 
for the handling of other j)eople's money and for a brief notori- 
ety that they could not get in any other way, lost no oj^portu- 
nity of urging the renewed action of the Vigilance Committee, 
or of the formation of a new one. In this they failed for a long 
time, and San Francisco began to feel the good effects of the re- 
stored confidence of the outside world. Suddenly-, in 1856, an 
event occurred which again dashed back our prosperity and 
clouded over the fair name we had begun to recover with a 
darker shadow than had yet fallen on it. James King of Wm., 
a gentleman of the highest character, universally esteemed and 
respected by all who knew him, had commenced the publication 
of the Evening Bidletia as a reform j)aper. He had but little ex- 
perience as a journalist, and attacked corruption in office in such 
a rough, violent way that he defeated his own object and made 
the man attacked seem the object of jjersonal persecution by the 
editor. However, King was regarded by the well-disposed of 
the community as their champion, and they urged him on and 
l^romised him protection from actions at law or otherwise, until 
he almost challenged and seemed to seek personal encounter in 
the streets. The result was that in January, 1856, he was assas- 
sinated, or, as some prefer to say, killed in the streets by a man 
of the name of Casey, whom he had attacked in his jiaper. 
Had the Evening Bulletin then been conducted with the judg- 
ment and ability we now see displayed in that same paper, how 
different might have been the result, for its noble, uncompro- 
mising war on the villainies of the day would not, in that case, 
have endangered the life of its great reform editor, and he would 
have lived to do the city and whole State incalculable services. 
As it was, he was struck down in his usefulness, and his young 
life lost to us. His death brought into life the old Vigilance 
Committee, the dead body of which had been so carefully em- 



Il2 FIONEER TIMES IN CALTFORNIA. 

balmed by the authors of the " Auuals." The merits and de- 
merits of this new movement is a sore subject to discuss, in San 
Francisco, to this ver}' day, thou.ch more than twenty years have 
elapsed since the second Vigilance Committee was disbanded. 
The death of Mr. Kinj^ was universally regretted, and the whole 
people felt it as a terrible outrage, and if, in this excitement, the 
man Casej' had been hanged within an hour after his capture, no 
one would have been surj^rised, and not a grumble would have 
been heard; but in an evil hour the Vigilance Committee was re- 
organized; they captured the city, defied all law, and commenced 
to deal out what they called justice. Many good men of course 
there were, who joined them, but nothing to the good men who 
refused. The Brannan stamp of men were of course leaders in 
this second Vigilance Committee, and before long every rough 
and scalawag in the city was on their side, but even with all 
this they would have been unable to maintain themselves a week 
in power, but that it so happened that, a few months before this 
time, some twelve hundred Frenchmen had been landed in San 
Francisco, who were banished from France on account of riotous 
conduct in Paris. In banishing tliem the French Government 
had given them a free passage to their choice of countries, and, 
unfortunately for us, they chose our State. The Vigilance Com- 
mittee organized many of these Frenchmen into a sort of a stand- 
ing army. A fort was erected, partly of stuffed gunny bags. It 
was of considerable strength, and was known as "Fort Gunny 
Bag." With this French arm}'- and the fort as a prison house, 
the Committee found no difficulty in maintaining their authori- 
ty. What all this was for no one could explain, for in the state 
of intense hate that sprung up between what was known as the 
*' Vigilantes " and the "Law-and-Order" men, no reform of a 
lasting character was possible. Johnson, the Governor of the 
State, was called on by the inhabitants to disband the Commit- 
tee; but he was a weak man, with neither the courage nor ability 
to face the difficulty. He responded by the usual proclamation, 
and notified the county militia to hold themselves in readiness 
in case he should need their services. At the same time he an- 
nounced that the command of the State forces was to be given 
to General (then Captain) Wm. T. Sherman. 

Everywhere in the country preparations began to be made to 
respond to the Governor's call, when suddenly it was announced 
that Captain Sherman had thrown up the command, and that 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFOKXI.V. 113 

Grovernor Johnson had some negotiations with the Vigilance 
Committee, in which they outwitted him. This brought such 
contemj)t on the legally constituted iiuthorities that almost 
everybody proclaimed himself a "Vigilante." The Committee 
continued in power nearly all Summer, hanging and banishing 
every one they saw fit to hang or banish. They established a kind 
of inquisition, through which, by secret trials, many acts of 
tyranny and oppression were committed. At length, their funds 
failed them, and they were obliged to send adri ft the Paris ruf- 
fians and give up the fort. So ended the second Vigilance 
Committee, leaving heartburnings and hates on both sides, that 
smolder even now in the breasts of many. General Sherman at 
first accepted the command offered by the Governor, but sud- 
denly resigned. The general public did not know his reason 
for this resignation, and the Law-and-Order men found great 
fault with him; but in his " Memoirs," recently published, he 
explains fully and in the most satisfactory manner all about his 
resignation of that command, from which it appears that it was 
impossible for him to have done otherwise than resign, after 
General Wool had broken his j)romise and refused to give the 
necessary arms for the use of the State forces. Yes; the second 
Vigilance Committee is dead. Let no one write its history. 
The sooner it is forgotten the better. The fruits were dissen- 
sions and hates in the community; a destruction of all business 
for a long period; the discouragement of immigration to our 
State, and the spread throughout the whole 8 tate of a disrespect 
for the laws, from which we have not recovered to this day. As 
we look back on it for good results, we cannot see even the 
shadow of one compared to the misfortunes it brought upon us. 
Notwithstanding all this, many — very many — good and true 
men stood by it to the last. The recollection of the first Vigi- 
lance Committee in the minds of the people who lived in San 
Francisco at that time is altogether different. That Committee 
was supported in jDower by no French outlaws. The first act 
they did that was disapprcjved of by the community caused 
them to disband. It all comes to this: Either let us have no 
constitution and laws, and leave the people, as they were in '49, 
to govern themselves in their primarj'^ capacity; or, if we do 
have a constitution and laws, let us never, under any circum- 
stances, sanction their violation, as a means of temporary relief. 

Either form of government might do, but the two systems can- 
o 



114 PlONEEIt TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 

not work together, for the reason to which I have before drawn 
your attention. 

It was truly wonderful how obedient the people of '49 were to 
the edicts of the despotic Alcaldes they themselves had placed 
in power in all the mining camps and small communities 
throughout the State. If an Emperor, surrounded by powerful 
armies, had placed these Alcaldes in j)ower, the obedience to 
their fiats could not have been more complete, while it certainly 
would not have been half so cheerfully yielded. Let me relate 
in the next chapter a little incident that helps to illustrate this. 



CHAPTEE X. 

BILL LIDDLE— A DANGEROUS PASS IN THE MOUNTAINS-OLD KATE'S INTELLI- 
GENCE—THE MEETING IN THE PASS— VALOR OF OLD KATE— THE DISCOM- 
FITED CONDUCTOR— THE TRIAL AND THE ALCALDE'S DECISION-COMPARISON 
BETWEEN THE OLD AND NEW METHODS OF SETTLING DISPUTES— LIFE OF A 
POLITICIAN— A CABINET MINISTER'S ADVICE TO A YOUNG APPLICANT FOR A 
POSITION. 

In 1849, I owned a pack trai^ of eight large American mules. 
They were in charge of a conductor of the name of Bill Liddle. 
Bill had them on the American river, packing merchandise for a 
trader in the northern mines. In one case he loaded his train 
heavily and started for a minijig camp far in the interior. On 
this trip he was obliged to pass along a dangerous trail of some 
two miles in length. It was cut into the side of a rugged cliff 
that overhung the river. It was just wide enough for a loaded 
mule or horse to walk on safely, with the cliff on one side and a 
fearful precipice on the other. Bill started his train in on this 
jDass, with old Kate, a heavj', square-built bay mule, as usual, 
on the lead. Old Kate was a favorite with us all. Bill used 
to insist that she understood English just as well as he did, and 
he always addressed her as if he was sincere in this assertion, 
and I was often forced to laugh at the wonderful intelligence 
she showed in obeying him. Sometimes, when he turned her 
loose in the corral and went away, she would come to the stable 
door, unlatch it herself, proceed directly to a bin where 
Bill kept barley in sacks, raise the cover, take out a sack, set it up 
on one end, rip the sewing as neatly as Bill could, and then 
stand quietly feeding out of it until she was discovered. On 
these occasions Bill would shake his head, and exclaim: "I 
wonder who Kate is. Oh ! I wish I knew, for of course she is 
som(i famous woman, condemned to live on earth as a mule." 

On the day I speak of. Bill had not advanced more than a quar- 
ter of a mile on the narrow trail, riding quietly behind his train, 



116 PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 

when he was startled by hearing a loud bray from Kate, and in 
a moment all the mules were standing still. Bill now looked 
ahead and saw that a return, unloaded train of fifteen California 
mules was approaching from the other direction on a jog trot. 
It was impossible for Bill to turn his mules around with their 
loads on, and there was no room to unload; nor was there room 
for the mules of the two trains to pass without almost sure de- 
struction. Bill raised himself in his saddle and in a furious 
voice called on the other conductor to stop his train. This he 
did, but told Bill that he would not go back on the trail, be- 
cause it was two miles to the end of the cliff, and Bill would 
lose only a few hundred yards by going back. Bill explained 
the impossibility of turning his large American mules with their 
heavy packs, or of unloading them on such a narrow trail. 
All this while old Kate stood right in the center of the trail, her 
forelegs well apart, as if to brace herself. Her nose dropped 
lower than usual, and her long, heavy ears were thrown forward 
as if aimed at the head mule of the other train, while her large, 
bright eyes were fixed on the animal's motions. " Well," said 

the conductor of the California mules, "I don't care ad , 

I will not go back; I am too infernal tired, and I am willing to 
take my chances. It is your place to go back, and if I lose a 
mule you will have to pay for it." 

Bill protested, but there was no use. The conductor swore 
and talked, and then, cracking his whip, called out to his lead 
mule: " Get up, Sal! take the rocks; take the inside. The right 
hand is ours by law. Make a dash, old gal, and go ahead!" 
Then he gave a loud halloo and again cracked his whip for an 
advance. His mules seemed to know that there was danger. 
Sal, the leader, hugged close to the rocks, and made an excited 
rush forward to get inside Kate. Up to this time Kate had 
never moved a muscle, and stood just in the center of the trail 
as at first. Bill feared for a moment that she did not see the 
danger of letting Sal get inside of her, and, again raising himself 
in his saddle, called out at the top of his voice: " Kate, my girl, 
go for them; pitch them all, and the driver with them, to h — 1!" 
Before Bill's order was fairly past his lips Kate gave an unearthly 
bray, as if in answer; at the same time she dropped on her knees, 
with her head stretched out close along the rocks, her neck and 
lower jaw rubbing the trail, and received Sal across her neck. 
In a second more poor Sal was high in the air, and then soused 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 117 

heavily into the river below. Kate, keeping her kneeling posi- 
tion, rushed on for the next mule, which she sent on to follow 
Sal. The Calif ornians now huddled back close together in fear 
of the kneeling monster before them, but their driver, maddened 
by his loss, hallooed and whipped them on. He was m hopes 
that by a sudden and furious rush they could be made to leap 
and dash over Kate, and then he had no fears but that he would 
dislodge the rest of the train and get even for his loss. But he 
did not know Kate, or he never would have tried such a desper- 
ate game. Bill continued to halloo: '•'Well done, my beauty! 
Down with them, Kate! Down with every last one of them, 
driver and all !" 

In a minute, one, two and three more of the Californians were 
on their headlong way to the river. The remainder now sat 
back with a sullen determination not to move a step forward, 
■which neither swearing, hallooing nor whips could shake. Kate 
now arose to her feet and took her old position just as before, 
with her ominous ears dropped forward as though nothing had 
happened. "Well," said the discomfited conductor, "I will go 
back, but when we get out of this trail you and I will settle ac- 
counts." Bill made no reply, but waited patiently while the 
conductor turned his mules one by one on the narrow trail, and 
started back with five less than he had on meeting Bill's train. 
Bill examined his revolver; it was all right. He drew his knife 
from the sheath; it was all right. The moment they emerged 
from the cliff. Bill took his revolver in hand, and, driving his 
spurs into his horse, was in a moment face to face with the loser 
of the mules, saying, with perfect coolness: " Shall we settle this 
business here, or shall we go before the Alcalde of the next dig- 
gings ?" Without answering at once, the man addressed took a 
good look into Bill's quiet, almost stolid face, and, appearing to 
think that Bill meant business, he answered: "Damn me, if 
you have not got a great look of that she-devil of a mule of 
yours that threw mine down the cliff ! Are you and she any blood 
relations that you know of ?" Not at all offended. Bill answered: 
" I cannot say positively that we are, but one thing I can say, I 
would rather be a full brother to a mule that would act as Kate 
did to-day, than a forty-second cousin to a man that would act as 
you did." " Well, well," said the other, " put up your damned 
revolver, and let us settle matters before the Alcalde. His camp 
is only half a mile farther back, so I will just leave my mules 



118 PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 

here to pick grass, and go on with you." They now rode side 
by side, and talked as though they were good friends. They 
soon reached the miners' camp, and found the Alcalde down in a 
shaft he was sinking for the purpose of i^rospecting his claim 
deeper. It was old John Sj)ruce, well known in early days on 
the Sacramento river. The mule drivers asked him to come up, but 
he said that was unnecessary, as they could just tell him the case 
and he would decide it at once. He then took a large bucket he 
and his jDartner had been using to elevate the earth out of the 
shaft, and, turning it upside down, sat on it. He then took a 
cigar from his vest pocket, lit it, and commenced smoking, lean- 
ing his back against the wall of the shaft. He folded his arms 
across his breast, and told the windlass-man, his partner, to go 
and get his Bible, the only one in the diggings. When it was 
brought he told Bill to take it. The Alcalde then repeated the 
oath to him, and Bill assented and kissed the book. The other 
conductor did the same, and then, lying forward on the wind- 
lass, looking down on the Alcalde, he made his complaint 
against Bill, and stated the facts very clearly, asking that Bill 
be adjudged to owe and pay him six hundred dollars, five hun- 
dred for the mules and one hundred for the ]Dack-saddles lost 
with them. Bill now took his place at the windlass and made 
his statement, and the case was submitted. The Alcalde took 
the cigar from his mouth, and, looking up at the two men, gave 
his decision in these words : ' ' My friends, I find for the defend- 
ant. The driver of the unloaded mules acted outrageously in try- 
ing to j)ass the American mules while heavily loaded on that 
narrow trail, that I know so well. If he had made such an at- 
tempt without himself losing heavily, and with loss to the oppo- 
site party, I would have given heavy damages against him. As 
it is, I dismiss the case and order plaintiff to j)ay the costs of 
Court, which are only one ounce." Here the Alcalde rose, turned 
up his bucket, and commenced to shovel away to fill it. As he 
worked on, he told the plaintiff to go to a store kept by one 
Meyer, not far off, and weigh out the ounce of dust and leave it 
there for him. This was done without hesitation. Bill went 
along and stood the treats, and paid for a bottle of the best brandy 
Meyer had, to be given in the evening to the Alcalde and his 
partner as they returned from their work. 

So terminated a claim that now-a-days would probably reach 
the Supreme Court for a final decision, after the amount in dispute 



PIONEER TIMES IN CVLIFOKNIA. 119 

had been spent three times over in law fees. Who can blame 
us '49ers for sometimes sighing for the days when we had neither 
constitution nor Legislature, and when the people always acted 
honestl}'' in their primary capacity. As I have before stated, in 
'49 there was no such thing as stealing or attempts at fraud. 
Every one seemed to act with honor, one with another. Of 
course there were exceptions to all this, but the exceptions were 
truly very few. Our troubles came with the advent of the office- 
holders and office-hunters, of courts and legislatures, forced 
on us, at least two years too soon, by hungry politicians 
who came here, not to work or pursue a legitimate business, but 
to live as such men can only live, by scheming and plundering 
the public crib. These were the men the "Annals" call the 
" first and most respectable citizens of the State," who " could 
wait no longer." 

In anything I have said I do not want to give the impression 
that I am, in fact, in favor of having no organized State gov- 
ernment, but when I look back to our condition here in '49, and 
I may include most of 1850, I feel proud of the conduct, taken 
as a whole, of the first immigrants to California. If it had been 
such as described by the "Annals," I would have felt that our 
American institutions were a terrible failure, and wholly incapa- 
ble of producing a great and noble people, who could govern 
themselves in all, and under all circumstances. I have shown 
how comfortably we got on without an organized government, 
with nothing but our early training to guide us on, to show 
that we were not recreant to that early training, but most faith- 
ful to it, and fully alive to its meaning. I will ask my young 
readers to let me here digress for the purpose of saying a word 
to induce them to enlist in the cause of reform, so much needed 
in the administration of our State government. "When you find 
yourself in a position of influence or power to do it, abolish 
every office in the whole State it is possible to do without, and 
curtail every expenditure it is possible to curtail without injury 
to the State. Open the way for the offices you do retain to 
women, old men and the maimed. In this way you will check 
the mania for office holding and hunting — a reform worth working 
for. This mania is the ruin of all young men who yield to it. 
Such a young man, let his talents be ever so promising, be- 
comes a dissembler, a sneak, a sycophant; he becomes an adept 
in political wire-pulling. He does not dare to express an hon- 



120 PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFOENIA. 

est political opinion of his own. In all things he must follow 
the lead of the partj? or man who put him in office. He per- 
forms the duties of that office wi(.h the constant fear that to- 
morrow his bread and butter will be cut off. He sacrifices not 
only his independence of action and thought, but his very man- 
hood. If he is successful in holding office for many years in his 
life, what is the result when at length he is dismissed, as he sure- 
ly will be, sooner or later? Why, the best years of his life are 
gone forever, and he is, most likely, poor and shunned by all. 

From my own observations, I tell you truly, my young readers, 
that I would sooner see a son of mine take the position of hod- 
carrier for a start in life, if that were necessary, than that he 
should take the best paying clerkship in any government office, 
either State or National, or any of the x^etty county offices. If 
you are surprised at what I say, just get some one who can re- 
member for twenty years back to give you the history of the 
office holders of your own county, whatever county that may be, 
and after you have it I think you will adopt my views of office- 
holding for young men. With women the case is otherwise, 
and so it is with men who have accomplished the main battle of 
their lives, or are physically debarred from the usual avocations 
of men. I will conclude this digression from the object of my 
book by giving you an extract from a Washington letter I found 
in the Call a few weeks ago, as it is just in point: 

"a living tomb." 

[H. V. Redfield's Washington Letter.] 

All the heads of the bureaus try to discourage young men from entering 
the departments, as it is a life without a future. The other day I heard a 
Cabinet minister talking to a young chap who wanted a place. 

"My young friend," said he, " don't apply. You may not be able to pass 
an examination; this would be mortifying. Save your money and your pa- 
tience, and go home. Saw wood, drive cows, anything honorable; but pre- 
serve your independence. A clerkship here is no qualification for anything. 
Not one in ten saves a dollar. It is an expensive place to live. Board is high 
and the weather hot. I have a man in my department who has been in forty 
years." 

"Forty years?" 

"Yes, every day ol it. He came in 1826. Well, he gets about the same 
salary that he did to commence with. The other day he came to me saying, 
' I ought to have died forty years ago. ' ' You don't mean that, ' said I. 'Yes, ' 
said he; * I mean that I have been buried in this building forty years, and I 
might as well have been buried in my grave. What's the difference between 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 121 

tombs? Of what advantage to myself have I been here? I had nothing 
■when I came in and have nothing now. I am disqualified for anything. If 
I was turned out to-day I would starve to-morrow.' So much for a govern- 
ment position that you young men are so anxious to get. They'd better let 
it alone." 

Yes; strictly sj)eaking', this chapter is all a digression, but the 
subject came naturally and forcibly in view, while drawing to 
mind the good old times of the pioneers, when we had no State 
government to care for us or Stat6 taxes to grind us down. I 
do not exactly advocate going back to that condition, but I do 
advocate going three-quarters of the way back, and then we will 
have enough, and more than enough, of government left for all 
practical purposes. Do not fear, boys of California, sons of 
the pioneers, to strike boldly for such reforms, and be sure 
jour success will be a glory to your native State. 



CHAPTER XI. 

STRANGE RECOGNITIONS— STOLEN MONEV RETURNED— MONTEREY— HOSPITAL- 
ITY OF ITS INHABITANTS— ITS DECAY— A FANDANGO— DON DAVID SPENSE 
AND DON JUAN COOPER— ilEETING OF OLD FRIENDS— TALBOT H. GREEN— 
HIS GENEROSITY— REFUSAL OF NOMINATIONS FOR UNITED STATES SENATOR 
AND MAYOR— HIS MARRIAGE— RECOGNITION BY A LADY— THE DEMOCRATIC 
CONVENTION— GREEN'S IDENTIFICATION AS AN ABSCONDER— DENIAL OF THE 
CHARGE— HIS DEPARTURE FROM SAN FRANCISCO— SUBSEQUENT CAREER. 

Many strange and curious recognitions occurred on this coast 
in 1849. Men supposed to be long dead were discovered living 
here under assumed names. I knew an instance, related to me 
in confidence, of this sort. In the early part of 1850 a gentle- 
man arrived here from Cincinnati with the intention of entering 
into mercantile business in this State. While looking up a good 
location, he met an old acquaintance who, seven years before, 
had disappeared with ten thousand dollars of his money, en- 
trusted to him to take to St. Louis. The absconder was then 
doing a flourishing business under an assumed name in San 
Francisco, and offered to pay the whole amount with interest, on 
condition of x^erfect secrecy being observed. This was agreed 
to, and half the lost money was paid down in gold, and the 
other half and interest was secured. The fortunate merchant 
took the first return steamer for his old home, satisfied with 
what California had done for him. The name of the discovered 
man was never made known to any one but to the lawyer chosen 
mutually by the parties to fix up the matter between them. 
This man alwaj'S bore a good reputation in this State, married 
an amiable lady, is now dead, having left children and a valua- 
ble estate. It is believed that the family never knew of the one 
false stejD of the head of their house. 

A more pleasing recognition was that which occurred to Don 
David Spense, of Monterey: 

The old town of Monterey was once the most hospitable and 
agreeable town in the State. Thirty years ago it could boast of 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 123 

lots of pretty girls of refinement and education, and the jolliest 
lot of men and women that were ever congregated together. 
Now, to us pioneers, it looks terribly lonesome, and the less we 
see of it the better we feel, for the town is decay jjersonified, 
and not agreeable to contemplate for those who know that they 
themselves have passed the summit, and are on the shady side 
of life's journey. As long as Don David Spense and the good 
Don Juan Cooper remained of the old crowd of long ago, the 
2)lace was tolerable, their hospitality was a sunlight in itself, 
that made things look cheerful, but since they have passed a^vay 
there is a chill in all the surroundings, that Davy Jacks, who 
now owns the whole town, and, they say, "has it fenced in," finds 
it impossible to dispel. In old times, it was the invariable prac- 
tice of the people of Monterey to give a grand enterl;ainm.ent or 
fandango to the officers of any war vessel that should visit their 
harbor, no matter what the nationality of the ship might be. 
Don David was always prominent on those occasions, for he was 
the very personification of fun and merriment. He was a Scotch- 
man by birth, and had left his native land while a boy in the 
employment of a mercantile house largely interested in the Pa- 
cific coast trade. He first came to Monterey as agent for that 
firm to purchase hides and tallow- He finally settled there and 
married a most excellent California young lady with whom he 
lived a long and happy life. On one occasion that an English 
man of war appeared in the harbor, Don David was dispatched 
by the inhabitants with the usual invitation to the Captain and 
officers to come on shore and partake of the hospitalities of the 
town, including, of course, a fandango. The English Com- 
mander infoi-med Don David, after thanking him and the people 
of Monterey warmly for the proposed kindness, that he should 
have to put to sea that very night, so that an acceptance of the 
invitation would be an impossibility, but a general leave was 
given to the officers to go on shore and visit the city. The First 
Lieutenant now accepted a seat in Don David's boat to go on 
shore. As the boat glided over the water the Lieutenant thought 
the nationality of his new friend v/as i)lain, from the accent on 
his tongue. So he interrupted the conversation with: "If I 
am not very much mistaken, you are a countryman of mine." "I 
am Scotch," said Spense. "Ah, I thought so; where were you 
born?" "In the town of Blank." "Ah, that is my bii-th-place 
too; how strange." And now the English officer put his hand 



124 PIONEER TniES IN CALIFOKNIA. 

to liis forehead as if in tliouglit as lie continued, while Spense 
looked all excitement. "Let me see, let me see; yes, I knew a 
widow Spense who lived there in a handsome house a long time 
ago — yes, and she had one son about my own age." While the 
Lieutenant was slowly repeating these words both men were star- 
ing full in each other's face, as if in a struggle to recall long 
lost memories. "Your name, Lieutenant, is — " "Is Blank," in- 
terrupted the Lieutenant. "Oh," said Spense, as he threw 
open his arms; "it is, it must be so; I know you now, you are 
the boy, who thirty-five years ago, I gave such a thrashing to 
for breaking my mother's window, on a Christmas morning." 
"The same," said the Lieutenant, and now the two strong men 
were locked in each other's arms in emotion that would have 
better become that long, long ago boyhood, they now so vividly 
recollected. The Commander of the man-of-war, on hearing 
of the recognition, concluded to remain over night, so they 
had the fandango, after all. 

The most remarkable discovery of this nature that ever oc- 
curred in California was that in regard to Talbot H. Green, whose 
name will be found mixed up prominently with all early notes 
on California history, but in particular with the city government 
of San Francisco for the first three years of its organization. In 
Col ton's "Three Years in California" Green is referred to in 
this way : " Long will the good old town of Monterey lament 
the departure of Talbot H. Green. His enterprise and integrity 
as a merchant and his benevolence as a citizen were everywhere 
felt. The widow or the orphan ever found in him a generous 
friend." When the South Carolina arrived in San Francisco, 
in June, '49, we found Green actively engaged with all that con- 
cerned the government and regulation of the city. He had a 
short time previously arrived from Monterey, at which place he 
had for some years been connected in mercantile business with 
Thomas O. Larkin. He was now a member of the prosperous 
firm of Howard, Mellis & Co. He was a man of plain appear- 
ance, low in stature, and square built. In manners he was ex- 
ceedingly friendly, kind and off-hand towards all. He seemed 
to be a man of sterling, good common sense, and of fine judg- 
ment. He was a good accountant, and of reasonably good edu- 
cation. In all the Summer of '49 he was decidedly the most 
popular man of all the old Californians that we found here be- 
fore us. He was respected by all, and in nearly all disputes 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALITOENIA. 125 

between business men, some of Avhich involved fifty and even a 
hundred thousand dollars, Green was chosen as one of the ar- 
bitrators, and in very many cases as sole arbitrator, and I can- 
not recall an instance where his decision was disputed or appealed 
from by either party. For these services he never would receive 
a dollar, though I recollect some instances where both sides of 
the dispute, after the decision was rendered, joined in making 
him a handsome pi-esent. "Wm. D. M. Howard, Thomas O. Lar- 
kin, Major Hensley, General Sutter, Sam Brannan, Leidesdorff, 
Captain Folsom, Colonel Stevenson, of the old American Cali- 
fornians, were Green's warm personal friends. The newcomers 
were all his friends. When the first Legislature of California 
met at San Jose, the State was not yet admitted into the Union, 
but her two first Senators had to be elected. Dr. Gwin and Col- 
onel Fremont were the prominent candidates, and were finally 
elected, but Green would certainly have been elected to one of 
these positions had he listened to the entreaties of his friends, 
and allowed his name to be used. As it was, some insisted on 
voting for him after his declaration that he would not take the 
position. When the first Mayor of San Francisco was to be 
chosen, in 1850, all eyes were turned to Talbot H. Green. He 
had only to say the word and his election was sure. This was 
a home office, and not very conspicuous, and Green seemed in- 
clined to accept it. However, John W. Geary, then Alcalde, 
besought of him not to accept the jjosition, representing to Green 
that he had to send home his family to Pennsylvania for want of 
means to maintain them in San Francisco, and that if he was 
elected Mayor he could bring them back again. So Green, with 
his usual generosity, positively declined the position of Mayor, 
and Geary was, of course, elected. Thus stood Talbot H. Gireen 
in the estimation of all ; not a whisper or breath to his discredit 
was ever heard in the community, up to the celebration of the 
admission of California into the Union, in October, 1850. 

In the Fall of 1849 he married the widow Montgomery. They 
were understood to have been engaged for some time, but on one 
pretence or another Green deferred the marriage until, at length, 
very properly, no excuse could be taken, so the marriage cere- 
mony was performed; but it was done in a private sort of a way, 
at Mrs. Montgomery's home by Frank Turk, who was then Assist- 
ant Alcalde of San Francisco. Two witnesses only were j)resent, 



126 PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 

G-eorge H. Howard and W. F. White. This marriage proved 
to be Green's greatest stumbling block, as will appear when I 
exjDlain. 

On the 29th of October, 1850, the day the people celebrated 
the admission of California into the Union, Green had, as a 
matter of course, a j)romineut place iu the grand procession in 
which we all marched through the streets. As the procession 
was breaking up and dispersing on the Plaza, a lady who stood 
looking on suddenly walked forward to Green, and in an excited, 
astonished way, reached out her hand saying •' Oh ! Mr. Geddis, 
can it be possible that you are here in California ?" Green, in 
apparent surprise, took her hand, and said with perfect coolness: 
" You must be mistaken, madam, in the person. My name is 
Green — Talbot H. Green." The lady drew back abashed, but 
said: " Why, certainly I am not mistaken. I cannot be mis- 
taken; I knew you all my life. I know your wife, your sister 
and your children." A gentleman who stood by said that Green 
turned pale, and that a tremor shook his frame, but with a forced 
smile he again denied his identity with Geddis, and in a calm, 
quiet way outfaced the lady, so that she turned away evidently 
astonished and doubting. 

From this time forward, vague rumors got about that Green 
had been discovered to be a man sailing under a false name. 
No one believed the rumors or paid the least attention to them; 
and so matters ran on until the following year, when the Demo- 
cratic party called together a convention to nominate a candidate 
for Mayor of the city, and all other officers of the city govern- 
ment. 

The convention met on Saturday afternoon, and organized by 
electing John A. McGlynn as Chairman. They adopted an or- 
der of business, that required the nomination for the least 
important office to be made first, and so continue up until they 
reached that of Mayor. The well-known intention of the con- 
vention was to nominate Green for that office. McGlynn had 
called on him, and he had consented to take the nomination, 
and his nomination was, in fact, a foregone conclusion. Before 
the convention had reached the nomination for Mayor, it ad- 
journed over until Monday evening. On Sunday morning there 
appeared in a flashy, irresponsible paper an article in which it was 
stated that the Democrats v/ould on Monday evening, nominate 
a well-known merchant for Mayor, who was sailing under a 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 127 

false name, assumed at the time he had disappeared from Iiis 
old home in Pennsylvania, Avith a large amount of money he 
had been entrusted with by the Grettysburg bank. This charge 
was so plain and direct that it created a profound sensation, 
and every one spoke of it with astonishment and almost alarm. 
Brannan, Howard and Larkin, Green's old and warm friends, 
at once calted on him, and, assuring him of unvarying friend- 
ship, besought him to confide in them without reserve, and that 
they would stand by him under all and every circumstance. 

He was greatly agitated, but boldly asserted that he was no 
other than Talbot H. G-reen, and that it was a case of mistaken 
identity. They then proposed to call with him on the proprie- 
tor of the Sunday paper and demand his authority for the pub- 
lication he had made. To this Green at once agreed. The 
editor of the paper, without hesitation, gave the name of a gen- 
tleman who had lately arrived from Gettysburg, Pa. 

On this person Green and his friends then called, and asked 
him if he had authorized the publication of the statement of the 
Sunday paper. He answered: " Yes, of course I did, and lilr. 
Geddis knows that it is all true." " But you are mistaken," 
said Green. "I am not the man you think I am. It is a case of 
mistaken identity." His accuser looked at him with a smile of 
of ridicule as he replied: " Why, Paul, what nonsense you are 
talking. You and I knew each other from our childhood up; 
you knoio I know you, and now that you are rich, why don't you 
acknowledge to these gentlemen the true state of the case, and 
then go home like an honest man, and pay up the bank, and bo 
just to your poor wife and children, and have done with it?" 
Green still held out boldly, and replied: "Is there no differ- 
ence between me and the man you take me for ? " " Not a par- 
ticle, except such as ten years would naturally make in the 
appearance of a middle-aged man, which is very little in your 
case." 

Green's friends were now thrown into doubt, and it appeared 
to them that the accusation against him must be true; so, on 
again reaching the street, they besought him to come out can- 
didly, and assured him that they would put up $25,000 each — 
or more, if necessary — to clear him from any debt he might owe 
the bank, and that they would in every way stand by him with 
brotherly fidelity. 



128 PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 

It is said that while Green listened to these generous offers 
of money and friendshij) he shook as if in an ague fit, and 
tears flowed fast over his cheek; yet, through it all, his only 
answer was that the charge was false, and that he would prove 
to them that it was so. 

During the day (Monday) Green called on John A. McGlynn, 
and related to him just what I have told of this interview with 
his accuser, and then gave McGlynn the same assurance of the 
falsity of the charge. In this conversation with McGlynn he 
told him that it was his intention to leave for Panama the next 
day by steamer, on his way to his old home, in Pennsylvania, 
where he was going, he said, to get the necessary proofs to con- 
tradict the charges made against him. He then continued: "I 
want you, Mack, to give me the nomination for Mayor this 
evening, and I will then address you a letter declining it, thank- 
ing the convention for the honor intended, and that will give 
me the opportunity I want to denounce this scandal about me 
as false." 

In this interview McGlynn said that Green showed great ex- 
citement and anxiety of mind. McGlynn had always been a 
warm personal friend of Green's, and promised to do what he 
requested with regard to the nomination for Mayor; but when 
the Convention met they had such a struggle over the nomina- 
tion of the other city officers that the whole evening was spent, 
and the Convention again adjourned until Tuesday evening, 
without reaching the nomination for the position of Mayor. On 
Tuesday morning it was rumored all around that Talbot H, 
Green's friends were requested to meet him at a large auction 
room on Montgomery street, and from there to escort him to the 
steamer that was to take him to Panama. 

At the time named the large room was full to its utmost 
capacity. There was a large quantity of champagne opened, 
and Thomas O. Larkin got upon a table in the midst of the 
crowd, holding a glass of champagne in his hand. He gave the 
following as the sentiment of the meeting : ' ' May the most 
honest man among us all here assembled be as honest, and 
always remain as honest, as we believe Talbot H. Green to be." 
All drank the toast, and gave three rousing cheers for Green. 

Green was now loudly called for. He got on the table, but as 
soon as he began to re'turn thanks, his feelings overcame him, 
and not a word could he utter. His emotion was such that he 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 129 

fairly sobbed. We then formed ourselves into a procession and 
marched with him to the steamer, where he continued to shake 
hands with friends until it moved off from the wharf. Then we 
all turned away with a sad, sickening' feeling, for the conviction 
was forcing itself on us more and more, as we thought it over, 
that there was to be in the future no such man as our old 
acquaintance, Talbot H. Green, and that in his place would 
figure one Paul B. Geddis, who had defrauded the bank of his 
native town and deserted and dishonored his wife and children. 
Yes; our feelings were far more disagreeable and sad, as we 
walked home, each to his own place of business, than they 
would have been if we had just been laying Talbot H. Green in 
a last resting place at Lone Mountain. Tn fact, this strange out- 
come of so prominent a citizen seemed to cast a shadow of 
gloom over the whole city that day, reaching every household. 
It seemed for a moment to check our wild, joyous onward 
career, and force us to stop to sigh, when we had no time to give 
to sighing. Another day, and San Francisco forgot it all. 

As to Green's subsequent career, I can only state it as known 
to the general public, which I suppose to be in the main correct. 
Before leaving he conveyed a large part of his property to his 
California wife, Mrs. Montgomery that was, and his one child 
born of her. The remainder he intrusted to the care of his 
friend Thompson. He took with him, it is said, some $20,000 
in drafts and gold. At the time of his departure he was one of 
the Commissioners of the Fund of Debt of San IVancisco. He 
also held various other trusts, both private and j)ublic, all of 
which he resigned before leaving. On board the steamer, while 
shaking hands with his friends, he had more than once to stop 
to sign a resignation to one of these sort of trusts. For over 
a year after he left, no word or tidings of his whereabouts 
reached his San Francisco friends, and many supposed him 
dead. Sam Brannan was most active in trying to discover what 
had become of him. The last trace that could be found of him 
was in New Orleans, where he had his drafts cashed and where 
it was found he had registered his name at the hotel as T. 
Green. At length he was discovered in Cincinnati, it is said, 
without a dollar. Brannan and some two or tliree of Green's 
old friends wrote to him and got him to consent to meet them 
in the City of New York. This meeting did take place, and 
after it some of the parties went to Gettysburg and settled in 



L30 PIONELE TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 

full with the bank. It is understood also that Green and his 
wife were reconciled, and that he purchased a beautiful farm for 
his family on the Susquehanna river, to which they retired to 
live; but how this can be it is hard to say, at least so far as 
Grreen is concerned, for not long afterwards we heard of Green 
being in Texas under his own proper name of Paul Geddis in a 
land speculation. 

It was announced that he was to return to San Francisco and 
go into business with Sam Brannan. In 1854 he did come back, 
but he looked broken down and wretched. He appeared to shun 
every one, and every one shunned him. I met him once after 
his return. We had been very intimate friends. The meeting 
was embarrassing and awkward. I did not know how to address 
him. With me Talbot H. Green was no longer in existence, 
and as to the poor, weak creature, Paul Geddis, I did not care 
for his acqviaintance; so, without addressing him once by name, 
we parted. He soon left California, but has appeared here 
since more than once. But what has become of him iu the end 
I have no knowledge. When Green's friends visited Gettys- 
bur"" they found the debt he owed the bank to be insignificant — 
less than $10,000. Geddis, it appears, was of one of the first 
families of that old town. His wife was an accomplished lady, 
and when he disappeared from there he had three lovely chil- 
dren. 

Beino- about to visit Philadelphia, it is said, he was intrusted 
by the local bank with $7,000 of city bank notes. These he was 
to have got redeemed in the city and return the gold to the 
bank. On reaching the city of Philadelphia, he was entrapped 
into a gambling den and lost all his own money and nearly all 
that of the bank. Filled with despair and fright, he changed 
his name and pushed his way West. West, West he flew from 
fancied pursuers, until he finds himself Talbot H. Green, a A'al- 
uable clerk in the employment of Thomas O. Larkiu, in Monterey, 
California. Kiches came to him fast after his move to San 
Francisco from Monterey in 1849. Now plans of sending the 
money home to the bank and of returning to his wife and 
children came constantly to his mind; but from day to day he 
deferred the good act that his guardian angel urged on him, and 
then obiections seemed to come in his way. What excuse could 
be given to Howard and Mellis, his partners, for drawing so large 
a sum on private account ? How could he ever tell them that he 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 131 

had assumed a false name? " Oh, wait, wait," said the devil. 
"Next Aveek will be time enough to send the money;" and 
"next week" and "next week" it was all the time. Then came 
another trouble. He is tempted, he yields, and is married. 
" Merciful Heaven," we fancy him to exclaim. "All is lost. 
Wife and children are dishonored. I must never meet or see 
them again." Poor Talbot H. Green! '49ers never harbor an 
uokind feeling towards you, and always sigh when they speak 
of your terrible, sudden downfall, though we now comprehend, 
of course, that your many elements of popularity were used by 
designing men to help them rob the city, and that you were, in 
fact, a weak tool in their hands. 

In all this account of Green, of course there may be some 
errors, but there are none in the main facts, for they are given 
as known to us all. 



CHAPTER XII. 

WAGES AND MERCHANDISE A SLOW ENGLISH FIRM — A CUSTOMER FOR 

BOWIE KNIVES A SHREWD SPECULATION IN SHEETINGS, 

Now let me add ii word on some more of the misrepresenta- 
tions of the "Annals." On page 253 tell us that : 

"Laborers' wages were a dollar an hoiur ; skilled meehaoicg received from 
twelve to twenty dollars a day." 

Pages 366-367, on " Merchandise," they say : 

"Matters were, perhaps, not quite so bad as when, in the Spring of 1850, 
chests of tobacco were used to pave the streets or make a solid foundation 
for houses, and when nearly every article of merchandise went a-begging 
for buyers, and not finding one, was cast aside to rot or iised to fill up mud- 
holes." * * * "In '49 a dollar was paid for a pill, and the 
same sum for an egg ; a hundred dollars for a pair of boots, and twice that 
for a decent suit of clothes. A single rough brick cost a dime, and a plank 
some twenty feet long was cheap at ten dollars. At one period ot that mon- 
strous year common iron tacks of the smallest size sold for their weight in 
gold, and for a long period were in request at from five to ten dollars an 
ounce, but in '51 bales of valuable goods were sometimes not worth the 
storage." 

As to this statement about wages, divide it by two and it will 
be about the truth. As to merchandise, the whole statement is 
an absurdity. I did business in San Francisco all that time, and 
ought, therefore, to know what I am talking about. The only 
foundation for the statement that a large quantity of tobacco and 
other merchandise was thrown in the streets as valueless, is 
that the first rains of 1849 destroyed a large quantity of tobacco 
not properly protected, belonging to White, McGlynn & Co.; 
and some other importing houses also lost heavily in the same 
way. These goods were sent to auction, but at that time CaIi-"or- 
nians would buy nothing damaged where goods in perfect order 
could be had, so not a bid was offered; and the goods were 
finally pitched into the street to fill up mud-holes. There never 



n 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA 133 

was a clay in San Francisco when good, merchantable goods did 
not bring at least a reasonably good price. There were times, 
of course, when sales were very slow and profits very light, as 
there were other times when sales were quick and profits very 
large; but the "Annals'" account of these fluctuations is incor- 
rect to absurdity. Undoubtedly, immense losses and sacrifices on 
goods often occurred in the early days of California to Eastern 
shippers, through the incapacity and bad management of the 
consignees, if not by their dishonesty. 

I cannot but think that a famous English firm, S., J. & Co., 
doing business on the corner of California and Sansome streets 
in 1849, was an example of this sort. They had a large stock of 
English imported goods. The building in which they did busi- 
ness was a remarkably good one for '49. The whole first story 
was filled to the ceiling with merchandise, and besides there was 
an immense pile of unbleached sheetings and shirtings in the in- 
closure belonging to the store. I should think there must have 
been 2,000 bales of these goods piled u|) in this lot, close to the 
store. These gentlemen did business in the old English style. 
Their counting room was in the second story, a large room, with 
a part of it partitioned off for a priTate office. The store was 
opened every day precisely at nine o'clock, and closed precisely 
at half-past three each afternoon. "When a customer made his 
appearance, the salesman, an intelligent young Englishman, 
whose name, I think, was Frederick Ayers, received him and with 
politeness conducted him to the presence of one of the firm in 
the private office, where the customer was expected to lay aside 
his hat while he talked over his business. 

Of course, no Californian would submit to this sort of non- 
sense, and the consequence was that poor S., J. & Co. did no 
business worth speaking of. Their clerk, as I have said, was a 
bright young man. He soon discovered his employers' difficulty, 
and did his best to open their eyes; but he might just as well 
have proposed to them to turn Mahometans as to adopt the 
Californian style of doing business. I recollect he once gave 
me an amusing description of a scene that occurred in the 
counting-room of this firm. It was about as follows: 

Just as we opened in the morning, in walked a good hu- 
mored, well-built man, in manners and rig the California miner 
to the life. As he entered he exclaimed: " Here, chap, where 
are the two old cocks they say keep this shebang. I have been 



134 PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 

here twice this morning, but your door was closed. Is any one 
dead in the diggings, that you keep shut up so ?" 

" No, sir; no one is dead. "What do you wish, sir?" 

"Oh, I am glad of that, for when a fellow dies here in Cali- 
fornia, there is always a great loss of time in burying him. 
"What a prty it is that when a fellow does die he cannot manage 
to bury himself. It would save the living so much; for time, 
you know, here in California, is too precious to be thrown away 
on dead men. Well, but, just as I was saying, my business is 
this: I met Bartol the other day — you know Bartol. He says 
he is a sort of clerk of yours, as well as being a Custom House 
officer, and besides a city Alderman. Well, he told me that 
these old English coons who keep this shanty had just received 
a consignment of handsome bowie-knives from their country. I 
am in the trading business in the southern mines, and I think 
the knives, from what Bartol says, will do our boys first rate. 
I will take a few dozen, and perhaps all they have, if the cost 
don't outsize my pile." 

" I will inquire," said I, as I turned towards the door of the 
office. Just then Mr. S. appeared in the doorway, dressed of 
course in the old English gentleman's style, and holding in his 
hand a copy of the London Times, the only paper he considered 
worth reading. Before I spoke he said : "Frederick, tell that 
person that the English cutlery will not be ready to expose for 
sale until twelve o'clock to-morrow." 

" I hear what he says, Fred.," said the miner, as he walked 
past me straight into the private office, and threw himself, in a 
careless way, into a vacant easy chair, just opposite to the one 
in which Mr. S. was now seated. Of course he did not remove 
his hat, and Mr. S. continued to read his paper, without once 
looking towards the intruder, who now said : " Say, friend, I 
cannot wait until to-morrow. I have been in San Francisco now 
nearly a whole day, and that is a d — d long time to be away 
from my business, so I must be back to my camp to-morrow 
sure; and I would just as leave pack home some of those 'ere 
English knives Bartol told me about if they are the right sort, 
for I have dust left after purchasing my oiher goods. It is down 
here at Burgons & Co.'s bank, and I hate to take it back home, 
and I know the boys want the knives; so, if you have a mind to, 
friend, Fred and I will knock open one of these here jDackages 
while you take a squint at the English invoice, and we can tell 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 135 

in two minutes if it is a trade or not; so what do you say, friend ? 
I am in a d — d big Lurry, as I told you." 

The merchant now slowly raised his eyes from the newspaper, 
and let them fall on the miner, with a cold, severe expression, 
in which disgust had a share, as he said, in a tone of voice suited 
to his indignant feelings : " The goods you speak of, sir, will 
be opened for inspection to-morrow, precisely at twelve o'clock, 
as I have already told Mr. Frederick Ayers to tell you." 

" And that is your answer, Mr. S.?" 

" Yes, sir," slowly replied Mi*. S. 

" And what the devil use will it be to me, when I will not be 
here to see them ?" said the miner, as he arose from his seat and 
walked out. 

When passing me, he beckoned me to follow him. I did so, 
and, just as we reached the stairway, he turned round to me and 
said : " Fred, I never saw you before in my life, but I like 
you, and I just want to tell you to keep a sharp look-out for your 
pay, for these old cocks of yours are sure to bust up. Nothing 
can save them, not if they had Queen Victoria and the Bank of 
England at their backs." 

When I returned to the counting-room, Mr. S. called to me, 
saying : "Frederick, where did you know that impudent Yan- 
kee that has just left here ?" 

" I never saw him before, sir." 

" Why, he called you Fred ?" 

"Yes, sir; he heard you call me Frederick, so he caught up 
the name and used it in his own familiar way, as though he had 
always known me." 

" Well, well; how can a gentleman live and do business here 
in this town, and put up with such confounded Yankee impu-^ 
dence ?" 

In the early part of 1849 there was but little demand for 
unbleached sheeting, or drilling, or in fact for any kind of cotton 
goods. It was only used for lining cheaply constructed houses, 
and, as almost every importing house had a few bales on hand, 
S. , J. & Co. 's large stock of these goods remained for a long time 
almost unbroken. Suddenly the demand became immense. The 
miners found that by using it they could dam almost any stream 
in a very cheap and quick way. They made bags with it, and 
filled the bags with earth, and with them constructed a dam 
that would turn the largest stream in half the time and with half 



136 PIONEEK TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 

the expense it would cost in any other way. S. , J. & Co. found 
no notice of this sudden demand for sheeting in the London 
Times, so they remained totally oblivious of the fact. Not so the 
firm of T., Mc. & Co., doing business on Sacramento street at 
that time. These young merchants were bright and sharp and 
attentive to their business. One or two of them had been edu- 
cated to business by that prince of merchants, Eugene Kelly, 
now in the banking business in New York and San Francisco. 
The first large order for sheeting that came from the mining 
region told the story of the new demand to the Sacramento street 
firm. So "Wm. T. , the head of the firm, without the loss of a 
single minute, found, himself quietly ascending the stairs that led 
to Messrs. S., J. &Co. 's lonesome counting-room in California 
street. He approached the merchants in true English style. 
They asked him to be seated, and were very friendly. He com- 
menced talking over the late news from Europe, in which he 
appeared much interested. He explained that it was a sort of a 
dull day with his firm in Sacramento street, and that he liked 
the English way of not rushing things as the Yankees did here 
in California, and he thought, besides, a chat between merchants 
now and then was very advantageous. 

"Yes, yes, my dear sir; you are right. Frederick, hand me 
that box of extra Havanas." 

The cigars came, and then began a social smoke. Then came 
a bottle of nice port wine, and, after half an hour of chat of every 
sort, T. arose to go, but just then he suddenly exclaimed: 

*' Oh, I was near forgetcing that my jDartners wanted I should 
ask you for what you could let us have, say, twenty bales of those 
sheetings, as we find ourselves in a position to job them out 
in the mining districts." 

" Oh, my dear fellow," exclaimed Mr. S., " you would do us 
a world of accommodation if you would help us to work off those 
sheetings. They are a most unfortunate importation. We will 
put them to you at home cost, Mr. T. Frederick, bring me the 
invoice book." 

The book is opened; the cost is found to be very low. Mr. T. 
says, in a careless way: " Give me a bill for twenty bales, and I 
will give you a check for the amount." 

While Frederick is making out the bill, T. falls into a conver- 
sation about an English lord, who had died some six months 
before, but interrupts himself to say: "If you wish you can 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALITORNIA. 137 

note on that bill that we can duplicate it next Aveek at the 
same price, as I am going to take some pains to help you out of 
this sheeting business." 

" Thank you, my good fellow. Frederick, put that indorse- 
ment on Mr. T.'s bill, and if you wish, Mr. T., we will make a 
sale to you of the whole lot, to be taken and paid for at the rate 
of twenty bales a week at the same figure." 

T. seemed to hesitate, but, after a puff or two on his cigar, ho 
exclaimed: "Well, do so. I will take a trip into the mines 
myself, if it is necessary to push them; so you had better tear 
that bill up for the twenty bales, and give me a bill for the whole 
lot, and credit on it the money I have just paid you, and each 
week I will send you a check for the same amount until it is all 
paid; and I will take the goods away as fast as I make sale of 
them. I was hesitating because I thought I ought to consult 
my partners before making so large a purchase; but, if they 
grumble, I will take it on my own account." 

The bill was duly made out and handed to T., who placed it 
with a trembling, excited hand, in his pocket-book. All was 
now siitisfactory, and, with a warm shake-hands, they parted. 
After T. left, Mr. S. arose, and, rubbing his hands with evident 
satisfaction, exclaimed to his partner : " Well, J., that surely is 
a lucky transaction this morning." 

" Yes, yes; so it is, S. I give you great credit for the way you 
drew T. into it; that port wine did no harm, either. I saw after 
he took a second glass that he became very sanguine as to what 
he could do with the sheetings; but there was nothing wrong in 
that little strategy of using the wine, as it is our duty to do the 
best we can for our consignors." 

" Oh, yes; that was my view of it, J.; but I must say that T. 
is a most gentlemanlj'- fellow. He would really pass among our 
English educated merchants. I do hope he will be able to 
struggle through after this transaction with us to-day." 

" Well," said T., to his partners, as he reached his place of 
business in Sacramento street, " I have had a fine cigar, enjoyed 
a bottle of the best port wine in San Francisco, and got a bill of 
sale of every yard of sheetings that S., J. & Co. have on hand, at 
their home cost. What do you think of that?" 

" Think of it," said Mc; I don't think anything about it; I 
knoiv that you have made twenty thousand dollars by the trans- 
action." 



138 PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFOENIA. 

" Yes, more than that," said the other partner, M. 

"The only drawback to my whole visit and trade," continued 
T., " was that I had to talk about half a dozen old English lords 
that the devil took to himself this last year or so." 

That purchase is said to have been the foundation of T., Mc. & 
Co.'s great success in business, and perhaps the primary cause 
of the failure, which took place some months later, of S., J. 
&Co. 



CHAPTER XIII. 

JOHN W. GEARY— HISTORY OF HIS ADVANCEMENTS— AS ALCALDE AND AS 
MAYOR. 

There is but one other subject worth attention treated of in 
the "Annals." It is the memoirs of the men who, in the esti- 
mation of their authors, were the great lights of 1849. 

The first memoir is that of John W. Geary, with a handsome 
steel engraving of that gentleman. I dislike exceedingly to say 
of this memoir what the truth of history demands, for Colonel 
Geary managed his way through the world with consummate skill, 
and succeeded, some way or other, always to work himself into 
places of honor and profit. After he left California, we find him 
successful in his application to President Lincoln for a post of 
honor as a territorial Governor, and then we find him a General 
in the army, and then we see the great State of Pennsylvania 
j)lacing him in her gubernatorial chair. All these honors con- 
ferred and worn well, it is claimed by his friends, should guard 
his memory, now that he is dead, from any examination as to his 
worthiness of the honors he succeeded in grasping. I have no 
disposition to make any such examination; but, in justice to us 
'49ers and to you, our children, I insist on my right to give a 
true and faithful picture of Colonel John W. Geary, as he was 
known to us in Saa Francisco in 1849. Even this I would not 
think necessary to do if the authors of the "Annals" had been 
any way moderate in their misstatements of facts with regard to 
his life in San Francisco. They are not satisfied, however, in 
this memoir, with an exhibition of sickening, fulsome flattery, 
but to exalt Geary they insult and seek to degrade in the eyes 
of their readers the whole community in which he lived. 

Look again at the quotation from joage 719 of the "Annals," 
and judge if I am justified in what I say of the i^osition of the 
authors in this memoir of Gear3^ It is a sort of a descriiDtion, 
in brief, of the immigration to this State in 1849, from which 



140 PIONEEB TIMES IN CALIEOENIA. 

you, children of California, sprung, and is in strict keeping with 
the representations of us all through this book— a book, too, 
that was dedicated to "the Society of California Pioneers." I 
have shown elsewhere clearly, I think, that San Francisco could 
justly claim the right in 1851 to be known throughout the Union 
as " the city of schoolhouses and churches," so that I will not 
now enlarge on this subject. 

According to the "Annals'" account of the part Colonel Geary 
took in the redaction of Mexico, his name should have been 
known to us all as familiarly as that of General Scott. The fact 
is, if this "Annals' " account is correct, Geary was a little ahead 
of Scott in all that makes a hero on the battlefield. Be this as 
it may, I do not propose to discuss it here. If he won laurels 
in Mexico, there is no wish on my part to displace a leaf from 
the wreath that may be upon his bi*ow. But it is a fact that 
when he appeared among us in 1849, in San Francisco, with the 
commission of Postmaster in his pocket, we were until then to- 
tally ignorant of the existence of such a man as John W. Geary, 
much less of this wonderful hero of the Mexican War. If the 
authors of the "Annals" had written truly the memoirs of 
Colonel Geary, instead of the fulsome nonsense they strung to- 
gether, the California chapter of it would have been about as 
follows : 

Colonel John W. Geary, last American Alcalde and first 
Mayor of San Francisco, arrived here in the steamship Oregon 
on April the 1st, 1849,with the commission of President Polk as 
Postmaster of San Francisco in his pocket. He was accompanied 
by his wife and one child. Colonel Geary had served, it was said, 
with some credit in the Mexican War, as Colonel of one of the 
Pennsylvania regiments. As to money or property, he had not 
a dollar on his arrival in San Francisco. In personal appear- 
ance, he was a good-looking man, with quiet, unassuming man- 
ners. He was evidently desirous of pleasing, and, although he 
did not succeed in attaching to himself warm personal friends, 
yet, by a sort of Uriah Heepism in his way of talking to you, he 
disarmed all active opposition to any of his schemes. He had 
nothing of the bold, dashing Colonel about him. His voice was 
always low and passionless. His step was noiseless and cau- 
tious, and you would often hear him speak your name before 
you heard his footfall. If, from this sort of manner, you should 
get an idea that he was easily moved from an object he had in 



PIONEER TIMES IX CALIFORNIA. 141 

view that was personal to himself, you would soon be undeceived 
if you undertook to do so. He had scarcely got the Postoffice 
into running order when the news from Washington reached 
him that he was removed by General Taylor, who had become 
President. Geary was not sorry to throw up the Postoffice, as 
his i^ay was small to what he saw he could make in California in 
some other way, and then the department did not make provi- 
vision for half the clerk help that the San Francisco Postoffice 
required. He made an arrangement to go into the auction and 
commission business with Van Voorhees and Sudden. Just 
then, however, an opportunity was offered him to again take 
office. This time the prospect of remuneration was good, so 
he accepted the offer of his friends, and was elected Alcalde 
without opposition. 

At this time he gave great offense to the real, bona fide Amer- 
ican Calif ornians by sending his wife and two children, one 
born here, back to Pennsylvania. To those who remonstrated 
with him against this step, he gave assurances that he sent thorn 
away because he could not stand the expense they were to him 
here, but promised that just as soon as his prosjoects grew bright 
he would again bring them to California. 

Geary served as Alcalde until the new city charter of May 1, 
1850, required the election of a Maj'or, when, by making earnest 
appeals to prominent citizens, he received the Democratic nomi- 
nation to that x^osition, and was elected by a handsome majority. 

In this contest he was very much aided by Talbot H. Green, 
whose popularity was then at its height, though so soon to dis- 
appear forever. After his term of office as Mayor expired, he 
received what proved to him to be a much better office — the po- 
sition of Commissioner of the Funded Debt. This position ho 
held up to the date of his departure from California, Febru- 
ary, 1852, when he left the State for good. Colonel Geary's 
career in California was a wonderful success, so far as he 
personally was concerned. He came to our State, accord- 
ing to his oft-repeated assertions, without a dollar. He was 
never engaged in any trading or business while he was here. 
The legitimate earnings of the offices he held could not have 
been over $10,000 a year, yet when he left the State, after a stay 
of two yeai's and ten months, he was worth, at the very least 
estimate, $200,000 in coin, and most people estimated him as 
being worth a much larger sum. Unfortunately for him, he 



142 PIONEEK TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 

intrusted about $80,000 of this cash to Simmons, Hutchinson 
& Co., who failed while it was in their hands, and Geary lost 
most of it. Out of this circumstance a litigation grew which 
twenty years did not wholly terminate. Colonel Geary was 
never known to purchase even one city lot at any of the sales of 
proj)erty made by the authorities of San Francisco, for his doing 
so would have been illegal, as he was all that time an oflScer of 
the city government. Everyone, therefore, was taken by sur- 
prise when in the late months of 1851 he exhibited a map of the 
city with all the lots owned by him designated in bright colors, 
which he now offered for sale. The large number of these lots 
astonished people, so that the first exclamation on seeing the 
map was always: "Why, Geary owns a quarter of the city!" 
This vast property he sold at reasonably good prices, for they 
were choice lots, well located. He did not, it is believed, retain 
even one for himself, and, shaking the dust of California from 
his feet, he took his departure, a rich man, for his old home in 
Pennsylvania. 

Had the " Annals" given the above as the life of Colonel 
Geary in San Francisco, I would not have troubled myself to 
say a word about him; but these authors have the impudence to 
deck Colonel Geary out as a political saint, who was endowed 
with wonderful talents, and who u,sed those talents with gener- 
ous unselfishness in governing a community who were all known 
to be thieves, vagabonds and blacklegs — for this is the plain 
English of the quotation I made from page 719 of their book. 

Let me draw attention to some of the swindles of the office- 
holding gang in San Francisco in 1849 and '50, and even later, 
and see where our saint Geary stood on such occasions. Almost 
the first act of the Ayuntamiento, as organized under Colonel 
Geary as Alcalde, was to pass what was called " An Ordinance 
for Revenue." This was as infamous an attempt to rob, under 
color of law, the newcomers, as could be devised by thieves. It 
is worth while to read Horace Hawes' "veto message" relating 
to this act. You will find it on page 224 of the proceedings of 
the Ayuntamiento, as published by order of the Board of Super- 
visors in 1860. It was no part of Hawes' duty, of course, to send 
" veto messages " to the Ayuntamiento, for he was only Prefect; 
but neither had that body the right to enact any such thieving 
ordinance, so he took the responsibility and did the best act of 
his life when he checkmated the gang in their villainous project. 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALiEORNIA. 143 

To understand exactly where the " little joker," as Hawes used 
to say, lay in this famous ordinance, you should recollect that in 
August, 1849, there were very few regularly established mercan- 
tile business houses in San Francisco. 

The newly established houses were well supplied with goods, 
but the older houses were very badly supplied. To these older 
houses belonged nearly all the members of the Ayuntamiento. 
The emigrants were arriving in great numbers in San Francisco 
at this date, and many of them had small lots of merchandise — 
not enough to make it worth their while to rent a room, or even 
to pitch a tent to enable them to dispose of their stocks, so they 
sold them as best they could by peddling them around. This, 
of course, checked the business of the old crowd, so they con- 
trived this ordinance to prevent the newcomers, who had only 
small lots of goods, from selling them, in the only way they 
could sell them; and, if the ordinance had gone into effect, 
the law-makers could have bought those goods at their 
own prices. Hawes was upheld by us all, while Geary and the 
members of the Ayuntamiento were denounced bitterly. Soon a 
town hall was declared to be necessary. A man by the name (jf 
P. Dexter Tiffany came forward and offered a house and lot he 
owned on Stockton street, near Green street, for $50,000. This 
house was altogether out of the way, and utterly useless for 
such a purpose, yet we find (see page 110 of Ayuntamiento pro- 
ceedings) Sam Brannan and Talbot H. Green recommending its 
purchase, and it was purchased; Colonel John "W. Geary pre- 
siding at the meeting and making no objection. As a matter of 
course, the building was never used as a City Hall. This was a 
plain, unvarnished swindle, with our saint looking on. At a 
Council meeting of April 1st, 1850, Geary presiding, a more in- 
famous swindle yet was concocted. A cobbledy high mount of 
a hotel called the " Graham House," on the corner of Pacific 
and Kearny streets, was purchased for $150,000 for a City Hall, 
$100,000 cash and the Tiffany property. This hotel was a dismal, 
ill-contrived, gingerbread, worthless sort of a shanty, unfit in 
every particular for a City Hall. The Council spent over 
$50,000 on it to try to put in shape for city use, but utterly 
failed in doing so. The location was bad — very bad — much 
more so than the same location would be now. At that time 
there was a sort of a swamp or slough between it and the Plaza. 
Ihis purchase disgusted every one, and a sense of relief was felt 



144 



PIONEER TIMES IX CALIFORNIA. 



when, soon afterwards, it was burned to the ground, and Peter 
Smith got the lot the building stood on, in one of his swindling 
sales of city property. Graham, who owned this property, was 
a member of the Council, but modestly did not vote on the pur- 
chase. Frank Tilford was also a member, and refused to vote. 
Matthew Crooks voted against it and denounced it as a swindle. 
Every one of the other members — five in number — were directly 
or indirectly interested in the purchase being made. Where was 
our saint's voice as he sat in the chair that day ? Then came 
the enormous wharf swindles, when money was voted by the 
hundred thousand, at a meeting, to build wharves that wer^ 
never built. Nearly $500,000 was voted away at that time on 
this j)retence, and all the people got in return was three mis- 
erable bulkheads — one at the foot of Pacific street, one on 
Market street and one on California street. Not one of these 
was worthy the name of wharf. Captain Keys was kept under 
pay all the time, at a salary of a thousand dollars a month, to 
engineer the construction of these works. This engineering was, 
of course, a perfect pretence, as none was necessary for the 
sort of work done. "Where was our saint when all this robbing 
was going on ? The truth is, G-eary, Brannan, Green, and one 
or two others, ran the city government in their own interest, 
from the early j)art of '49 to the fall of '51, and they all came 
out of the job rich. Of course, there were outsiders who took a 
liand with them when it paid them to do so. 

But, perhaps, it will be said: " See how Colonel Geary fought 
Hawes and Justice Coltou, when they began to steal the city 
property, or give it away." And, further, it may be said, 
" See how boldly Geary fought the Peter Smithites." Yes; he 
fought both these thieving factions desperately. Hawes he 
completely beat from the field, and before the other he beat a 
retreat, after making a good fight. But why did he fight them ? 
Because these two factions — the Hawes faction and the Peter 
Smith faction — were rivals of his faction, in stripping the city of 
her property, and he had to drive them from the field, or quit 
himself. When the Peter Smithites triumphed, it appeared to 
Geary that "all in sight "was stolen, in this terrible whole- 
sale grab of the Smith faction; so he left the State. 

But in this Geary did not show his usual foresight; for within 
the following few years swindles that for magnitude and un- 
blushing effrontery would compare favorably with even the 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFOKNlA. 145 

Smith swindle, were successfully carried tlirou^'h. Yes; and up 
to this very time a handsomely paying business in the swindling 
line often crops out in the official circles of San Francisco. 

It may be asked if the auction sale of city property under the 
auspices of Geary & Co. were not fairly conducted. I tell you, 
no; for there was a villainous fraud practiced on the unsophisti- 
cated outsiders by the surveyor of this ring. You must recol- 
lect that, at the time of these sales, the whole city, east of Cali- 
fornia street, south and west of Kearny street, and north and 
west of Pacific street, was a confused mass of sandhills and 
valleys, and that it was impossible by the eye to tell the true 
location of any of the j)roposed streets beyond the limits I have 
named. 

Eddy, the surveyor, ran out all the streets by actual survey, 
and mapped them properly. In making his survey, when he 
came to where lots were in a favorable location, he put a private 
mark opposite the numbers of such lots, indicating their appear- 
ance and jn'obable value. He then made two copies of this map; 
one intended for the public to see, which had no sort of expla- 
nation on it. The other copy was carefully noted, so that at a 
glance you could tell the sort of location each lot had in refer- 
ence to the streets, and each lot was esj)ecialh^ noted, Thus, 
" A nice building lot;" " On a high sandhill, covered with oak 
timber;" " In a nice grass valley; " or, it may be, " Inaccessible, 
one-half pretty good." And so on, in that way. Geary, Bran- 
nan, Green, and about twenty or thirty others, had the use of 
this map, each paying Eddy fifty dollars for the privilege. I, 
with three or four of my friends, went to one of these auction 
sales, intending to purchase. We wanted lots, of course, in a 
good location. We looked at the map, but could not under- 
stand the location of a single lot, and Eddy refused all infor- 
mation ; so we did not bid. 

After the sale, Eddy, on being paid to do so, went with the 
purchasers and showed each his lot, and then put down stakes 
properly numbered, so as to correspond with the number on the' 
map. 

When I saw the number put on the lots I had intended to 

purchase, I went to the Surveyor's office to see who had jjur- 

chased them. I there found that the purchaser was a merchant, 

a friend of mine. I called on him, and asked him what he 

would take for these lots I wanted. He said: " Five hundred 
10 



146 PIOXEEK TIMES IX C.VLIFOKNIA. 

each," and I took them at that price, -without hesitation. They 
cost him just twenty-five dollars each. I asked him how on 
earth he was able to make such good selections, and told him of 
my inability to recognize the location of a single lot on Eddy's 
map. 

" I would have been in the same fix," said he, '•' but a friend 
of mine, who has a way of getting the secrets of the ring that 
is running the city business, got me a sight at Eddy's private 
map by paying him (Eddy) S50. This was well laid out, for I 
have made about §1,400 out of the three lots I have just sold 
you, and have as many more, just as good, left." 

And then, again, the ring owned the auctioneer, and no out- 
sider's bid was ]iea>\1, except the lot was not wanted by any 
member of the ring. Brannan, Green, and many other mem- 
bers of the Council, contrary to all decency and law, boldly bid 
in lots at these sales by the dozen. 

For this, I refer you to page 239 of the same published 
proceedings of the Ayuntamiento. 

Brannan, on one occasion, tried to have himself appointed 
auctioneer. (See page 79 of the published proceedings.) But, 
failing in this, he got, what did him just as well, his partner's 
brother-in-law, George B. Tyler, appointed. Tyler worked for 
the city in this capacity of auctioneer just two days. He was 
altogether unfit for the position, and was a mere tool of the 
ring. And what do you think did the ring j^ay him out of the 
city funds for these two days' work ? I refer you to page 153 
of same proceedings, and you will find that they paid him the 
snug little sum of $17,100. Matthew Crooks and one other 
voted against this swindle. 

Where was our saint. Colonel Geary, that day? 

He is recorded as presiding over that meeting, and it is a fact 
that he used his influence to aid Brannan in having Tyler 
allowed the enormous pay. But, perhaps, it will be remarked 
that in the recorded amount of city property sold at auction, no 
lots appear as bid in by Colonel Geary. Such is the case, un- 
doubtedly; but it came out afterwards that Geary was one of 
the largest purchasers at those auction sales, the lots being 
bid ofl' in the name of one of the Boss brothers and other 
friends who lent him their names for the pm-pose. 

The authors of the ".innals" say Geary came here "friend- 
less and a stranger," How is this? He came here with the 



PIONTXB TIMES IN* CALIFORNIA. 147 

commission of Postmaster in his pocket. Was that being 
friendless and a stranger ? 

All the rest of us '49ers came here at that time friendless and 
strangers to each other, -without even the commission of Post- 
master in our pockets to introduce us to the community. 

"WTien reading over this memoir of Geary, a "lOer cannot help 
thinking sometimes that the authors intended, by their extrava- 
gance and absurdity, to ridicule Colonel Geary. Among other 
absurd, untrue things they tell us of. is their assertion that the 
child born to Mi-s. Geary in April, 1849, was the first male child 
of purely A merican parents, that was born in San Francisco after 
the cession of California to the United States. 

The author should have told us what all the other American 
mothers were about who were here long before !Mrs. Geary, to 
allow this honor to fall to her. 

I have reviewed this memoir more extensively than I intended, 
but my wish is that all should understand what is the true early 
history of our State ; and, when I place things in a new or dif- 
ferent light from what you have before viewed them, then I 
trust you will investigate such points for youi'self , and determine 
how far I am correct in what I tell you. The truth is, Geary 
sent his family home because he made up his mind to leave the 
State just as soon as he could make '•' a stake " to go home with. 
His whole career here was intensely selfish. He never believed 
in California. He never liked California. In two years and 
ten months he amassed a fortune out of his official positions in 
San Francisco, and then left the State forever. This "Annals" 
memoir, with its handsome steel engraving of Geaiy, it is said, 
was the foundation of his success in politics when he returned 
East, both with President Lincoln and his fellow citizens of 
Pennsylvania. 

The nest memoir is that of Charles J. Brenham, second and 
fourth Mayor of San Francisco, accompanied by a very good 
likeness in wood of that gentleman. If the reader inquire, I 
think he will find that old Californians and '49ers will indorse 
every word of praise bestowed by the authors of the '-'Annals " 
on Captain Brenham. It does us good to recall his memoiy; 
he was always so open, frank and generous in his intercourse 
"with his fellow citizens. I have so often been obliged to quote 
from the " Annals," for the purpose of disproving their position, 
that it gives pleasure now to quote for the purjiose of indoi"sing 
"what they say : 



148 PIOMEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 

" During Mr. Breuhara's whole official career not the slightest iaiputation 
■was ever made impugning tne purity of his motives or his strict integrity. 
He was never interested in any way pecuniarily with any speculation con- 
nected with the city. He never availed himself of his position for th-e pur- 
pose of personal aggrandizement. No one ever has performed, or ever will 
perform, the duties of an office with more purity of purpose, and with a 
greater regard for the true interests of the city, than did Mr. Brenham. He 
retired from his office withoTit the slightest taint of suspicion." » * * * 

" Mr. Brenham held office, and possessed the power of turning hisposition 
into a medium of great, though dishonorable gains. It is but just to give him 
the due meed of praise, and say to him who has justly done his duty to his 
fellow citizens and himself ; ' Well done, thou good and faithful servant.' " 

No ; Captain Brenham did not go into office poor and come 
out rich, as others had done. He is now in a far better world, 
let us hope and believe, and has left to his children the j^i'oud, 
priceless inheritance of an untarnished name. 

Next comes the memoir of Stephen R. Harris, third Mayor of 
San Francisco, accompanied by a woodcut portrait that is not a 
good likeness, and does him injustice in that respect. The me- 
moir itself is hardly up in praise to the estimate the Doctor 
has universally been held in by his fellow citizens in California. 

Then comes the memoir of C. K. Garrison, fifth Mayor of Sau 
Francisco, with a very good likeness in wood. The memoir con- 
sists of a little family history, which we suppose in the main to 
be correct. 

Then comes the memoir of Sam Brannan, of whom a very 
flattering woodcut is given. This memoir, for effrontery and im- 
pudence, outdoes the memoir of Geary, and for misrepresenta- 
tion nearly comes up to the Geary story. Brannan's early life 
shows him to be a bold, daring, reckless man in every position 
into which he threw himself, whether as leader of the Mormons 
around Cape Horn, or as doing business for them afterwards in 
San Francisco and at Sutter's Fort ; or as a member of the Town 
Council of Sacramento or San Francisco — he exhibited a tyran- 
nical, overbearing and grasping disposition. He opposed public 
plunder, and made a great outcry when he was to have no share 
in its fruits ; but when he was " in," it was quite another mat- 
ter. He was a prime mover in the famous revenue ordinance 
business vetoed by Hawes. He was a member of the Ayunta- 
miento when most of those plundering auction sales of city 
property were planned and carried through (see page 88 of pro- 
ceedings of City Council), whereby four votes he carried through 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALTrORNIA. 149 

the sale of 250 city lots. These votes — the only ones given iu 
favor of that sals — were Brannan, Green, Harris and Post. 
When the sale came off, Brannan, though a member of the Coun- 
cil, purchased about sixty of the most valuable lots sold, in com- 
pany with his partner, Osburn. (See page 236 of the proceed- 
ings of the Council.) Afterwards, he voted for and carried 
through appropriations to the amount of some $300,000 to im- 
prove and bring into market these very lots. (See Hawes' letter 
to the Assembly' of California, on page 247.) Look at page 111, 
and see the active j)art he took in the purchase of the Ti£fany 
House. Look at page 79, where he has the modesty to ask to be 
appointed auctioneer, though a member of the Council. Look 
at page 153, where he gets his partner's brother-in-law paid that 
enormous fee for two days' work. Look at page 82, where he 
made an efifort to have us all individually assessed to improve 
the streets leading to his lately purchased lots. Brannan never 
would have been so successful in his schemes for self-aggrandize- 
ment if he had not been actively aided by Talbot H. Green ; for, 
notwithstanding Green had a hand iu every corruj)t scheme put on 
foot, he had an unaccountable personal popularity that defied 
the opposition of those who saw through the villainy that was 
every day perpetrated by those who controlled the machinery of 
the city government. The authors of the ' ' Annals " make a fool- 
ish mistake iu their attempt to dress up Sam as a historic politi- 
cal saint of '49. The best they could have done for him was to 
have said nothing about him. 

Sam collected large sums of money, in the way of tithes, from 
his fellow Mormons during the first years of his life in Cali- 
fornia. 

Here is what General Sherman says of him, in his own me- 
moir, on page 53 : 

" I remember that Mr. Clark was m camp talking to Colonel Mason about 
matters and things generally, when he inquired : ' Governor, what busi- 
ness has Sam Brannan to collect the tithes here ?' Clark admitted that 
Brannan was the head of the Mormon Church in California, and ho was 
simply questioning as to Brannan's right, as High Priest, to compel the 
Mormons to pay him the regular tithes. Colonel Mason answered : ' Bran- 
nan has a perfect right to collect the tax if you Mormons are fools enough to 
pay it.' 'Then,' said Clark, ' I, for one, won't pay it any longer.' Colonel 
Mason added : ' This is public land, and the gold is the property of the 
United States. All of you here are trespassers ; but, as the Government is 
benefited by your getting out the gold, I don't intend to interfere.' I un- 



150 PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 

derstood afterwards that, from that time, the payment of the tithes ceased, 
but Brannan had already collected enough money wherewith to hire Sutter's 
hospital and to open a store there, in which he made more money than any 
merchant in California during that Summer and Fall." 

It is further told of Sam that Brigham Young, on hearing of 
these collections, sent to him for the proceeds ; but Sam sent 
back word to Brigham that he had collected considerable sums 
of money from the Mormons in the name of the Lord, and that 
as soon as the Lord called on him for the money he would j^ay 
it over ; but that he would hold on to it until the Lord did call. 

If this story is true, it shows that Brigham met his match, for 
once at least, in his deputy, our Sam Brannan. In 1864, the Ee- 
publican part}"^ needed money for campaign uses in the Presi- 
dential contest of that year. This induced them to put Sam, 
who was then rich, on the electoral ticket. The Democrats hit 
at some of Sam's supposed failings, by caricaturing him on a 
transparency in one of their torchlight processions. He was 
represented as marching to battle against the rebels with a bot- 
tle of whisky in one hand and a j)ack of cards in the other, 
with this inscription: " Sam Brannan's weapons of warfare." 
The Republicans enjoyed this take-off as much as did the Demo- 
crats. 

Poor Sam; it is said that the Lord did call for that money, 
after all. 

As I will not in this volume again refer, in detail, to the frauds 
practiced on us in early times, I w^ish here to say that in my re- 
view of the memoirs of Geary and Brannan, I did not refer to a 
hundredth part of the swindles carried through every depart- 
ment of the city government at that time. Wliat San Francisco 
'49er can forget the harassing frauds practiced on him while Mr. 
Dennis McCarthy was Street Superintendent ? It would take a 
whole chapter to tell you the half of them. Who can forget that 
cunning ex-office-holder of New York City, Moses G. Lenard, 
who got a place in the Board of Aldermen on great professions 
of reform and honesty of purpose, but who took every chance to 
aggrandize himself, and succeeded in the end in getting sev- 
enty or eighty thousand dollars for building a bulkhead at the 
foot of Market street, useless in its character, and not worth ten 
thousand dollars to build, at the outside? Lenard and McCarthy 
both left us, with their jDOckets well filled, to figure, of course, 
like others of the same svay of acting, at annual dinners in the 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 151 

Eastern cities, and talk about the heroic pioneer days in Cali- 
fornia. 

The next memoir is that of Captain Folsom. The Captain was 
known to us '49ers as a cold, austere, unsocial sort of a man ; but 
w^e never doubted his fidelity to the Grovernment. His action in 
the matter of the Leidesdorff estate, and also his action in the 
sale of Government stores, just after gold-dust began to appear 
as a circulating medium in California., caused many to bitterly 
denounce him, though in both cases they may have done him in- 
justice. I will give the facts as current in San Francisco in 
18J:9, in relation to both these matters, and all can judge of them 
for themselves : Soon after the discovery of gold, in the fall of 
'47 or early in '48, provisions and clothing became very scarce, 
and commanded fabulous prices. The General Government, at 
that time, had a large amount of clothing and provisions in Cali- 
fornia, in charge of Captain Folsord. The war was over, so there 
was no prospect of these stores being needed at any time in the 
near future. Gov. Mason, then in command in California, ordered 
the supplies condemned and sold at public sale. Captain Fol- 
som accordingly advertised them for sale. The day of sale came, 
and there was a perfect rush of miners and traders from all 
directions to the place of sale. They came weighed down with 
bags of gold dust, which they were willing to let go at the value 
of ten dollars per ounce, when its least true value was sixteen 
dollars. None had gold coin to offer, for there was hardly any 
in circulation. Captain Folsom was known to hold a large 
amount of coin belonging to the United States Government, sent 
out to pay off the sailors and soldiers, now being discharged. 
When the sale opened, the auctioneer announced that nothing 
but gold coin would be received by the Government in payment 
for the goods offered. This announcement was received with 
shouts of disapprobation from the whole throng of gold-dust 
holders; but Captain Folsom remained firm, and it is said 
that the consequence was that two well-known friends of Fol- 
som's were the only bidders, as they alone had gold coin to 
offer. The goods, of course, went for one-tenth their market 
value, and somebody made an immense thing out of that sale. 

The story of Captain Leidesdorff, as related to me soon after 
his death by an old friend of his, is romantic as well as very sad. 
Whenever I visit San Francisco, and find myself walking in the 
street that bears his name, it comes to my memory. If my recol- 
lection is good, it is about as follows : 



152 PIONEEB TIMES IX CALIFOUNIA.. 

William A. Leidesdorff was a native oE one of the "West India 
Islands, and had received a reasonably good education, for which 
he was indebted to an English planter, who, from some cause, 
had taken a deep interest in him from his infancy This Eng- 
lish gentleman had a bachelor brother, who was a wealthy cotton 
merchant in the city of New Orleans, and to him ho sent young 
Leidesdorff, at the age of twelve years. The boy's close atten- 
tion to business and prepossessing manners soon won the warm- 
est esteem of the New Orleans merchant. As years passed on, 
"William became his confidential clerk, and stood closer to him 
in all his business relations than any other person in his em- 
ployment. Now comes to the young man news of the death of 
his Island friend, and of a considerable legacy bequeathed to 
himself. Leidesdorff was somewhat good-looking, and, as I 
have said, very prepossessing in his manners. He mingled in 
the first society in New Orleans, and was a great favorite with all 
the young ladies of that class. He played the guitar, and ac- 
companied himself in songs filled with all that sweet, dreamy 
softness of expression and tone one's fancy always connects with 
the music of the Sunny South. He now falls desperately in love 
with a beautiful girl. She is the pride and darling of one of the 
proudest French families in New Orleans. He thinks he has 
won favor in her eyes, for she seems so happy when he is near 
her, and her look never refuses to meet his, no matter how 
plainly it reveals his feelings of admiration. But Leidesdorff 
knows he dare not declare his love, for two reasons. The first 
is, that he has not the wealth to sanction him in asking the 
daughter of so proud a family to be his wife. The second is a 
secret he dare not disclose, and yet dare not marry such a girl 
as Hortense L. without disclosing. The first difficulty is soon 
removed by a sad event — the death of his sincerely-loved em- 
ployer, who wills him every dollar of his large property. His 
great accession of wealth did not in the least lessen the poignancy 
of Leidesdorff's grief for the loss he had sustained, and for more 
than a month he goes nowhere, sees no one except on un- 
avoidable business. He always chose the shade of evening for 
his necessary walks for health. One evening, about six weeks 
after the death of his friend, he started out for his usual consti- 
tutional walk. The moon is out in all her brilliancy, and the 
evening is beautiful beyond description. Somehow his heart 
this evening, though sad, is full of thoughts of Hortense L. ; 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 153 

and, unperoeived by himself, his steps lead through the street 
in which is her beautiful home. He is now before it. It is a 
large mansion, a little back from the street, surrounded by orna- 
mental grounds. The front porch is shaded by beautiful 
climbers of every description, which half hide the front door 
from view. He stops, hesitates, and cannot pass on. He turns 
and ascends the marble steps that lead up to the porch. Just 
as he is about to lay his hand on the silver bell, he is startled by 
the rustling of a lady's dress. It is Hortense. She advances 
from a seat that was a favorite one of hers on such evenings, and 
on which he had often sat with her, while they sang together to 
the accompaniment of his guitar. This is the first time they have 
met since the death of his benefactor, and Hortense's father 
had rejDorted to her the depression and sad state of mind that 
event had brought on their 3'oung friend. In an instant their 
hands are clasped together, but not a word does either utter; each 
tries hard to control emotions that so suddenly surprised them. 
Hortense struggles desperately, for she fears to betray feelings 
her womanly pride demands should j'et remain known only to 
herself. William struggles to conceal feelings he dare not de- 
clare openly, as he felt that the terrible secret of his life de- 
barred him from ever asking Hortense's hand in marriage. But 
they both failed in the effort and broke down. The result was 
a wild, passionate declaration of love from Leidesdorff, and an 
unreserved confession from Hortense that her whole heart 
was his. For an hour, as they sat in that moon-lit arbor 
of roses and flowers, the joyous utterances of pent-up love, now 
overflowing, drove back and drowned every thought that dare 
approach to shade the happiness that seemed just then so com- 
plete. Now voices are heard in the hall, and Hortense hears 
her name called by a merry, light-hearted little sister, who is 
evidently looking for her. The lovers start from their seat and 
the dream they are lost in. One passionate exchange of vows of 
fidelity, and, with a kiss to seal all, Leidesdorff finds himself 
rushing down the street, he knows not whither, and upbraiding 
himself in excited terms as a dishonorable man for telling his 
love before he had told his, now to him, horrid secret. All 
night he struggled with himself to summon courage to reveal it 
to Hortense's father the next morning. Yes; he believed he Lad 
succeeded, and with brave resolution earl}' next day he ap- 
proached the counting-house of Mr. L. He was received with 



154 PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA, 

great cordiality by that gentleman, and, after a sort of an embar- 
rassed pause, he asks Mr. L. for a private interview. It was 
granted with cheerful politeness. The moment they were alone, 
Leidesdorif began to beg for pardon for an indiscretion he said 
he had been guilty of, in allowing himself to so far forget the 
rules of society as to have spoken to Miss L. of marriage, with- 
out first obtaining her father's consent to do so. He explained 
that it was not a premeditated fault, but one he had been sur- 
prised into by an accidental circumstance. 

The father here interrupted him, and in an off-hand manner 
assured him that he had the utmost confidence in his honor, and 
•was fully satisfied with his explanation, and that no disrespect 
was meant, and concluded by saying that if Mrs. Leidesdorff and 
his daughter both favored his suit, it should also have his hearty 
concurrence. 

In the joy of hearing these words, Leidesdorff forgot his se- 
cret, and, grasping Mr. L.'s hand, he poured out the warm- 
est thanks for the kind manner in which he had been received. 
Now his secret came back to him, but all courage to reveal it 
was gone. Before parting with Hortense's father, it was settled 
that he should call the next day at Mr. L.'s residence for 
his final answer. Yes; to-morrow, when he called, he would 
confess his secret, and so he planned and so he believed he would 
do, as he turned his head from side to side all that night on a 
pillow where he found no sleep. He did call at the appointed 
hour, and found himself received without formality by the whole 
household as the accepted lover of the darling of the house. 
Again the good resolution failed, and, yielding to the enchant- 
iQg sweets of the moment, he revealed nothing. Now he tried 
to drive the voice of honor, ever whispering I'eproaches, out of 
hearing, and to give up thoughts of ever telling his secret. He 
placed a beautiful diamond ring on the finger of his betrothed. 
Nearly ever}'' evening found him by her side. The marriage day 
was fixed, and with charming blushes Hortense asked him to as- 
sist in some of the preparations. When with her he was happy 
to intoxication; when away, his secret would come and sink him 
to the depths of misery. Day by day the voice of honor grew 
louder and louder. He became j^ale and haggard, and now Hor- 
tense began to see the change, for sometimes his manner, even 
to her, became excited and incoherent. Then she summoned 
courage to speak to him about it. At first he avoided her ques- 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFOENIA. 155 

tions. Then, in a moment of anguish, he acknowledged he had 
a secret that he dare not tell her. Then her gentle words of en- 
treaty, to be allowed to share it, fell upon his feverish ear, one 
day. He answered by exclaiming: " Oh, yes, Hortense; I must 
tell it to you some day, or it will kill me, so prepare yourself to 
hear it." 

"I am prepared now, William," she said. 

"Well, but I have not the courage to-day, Hortense; to- 
morrow you shall know it, if I live." 

That night Leidesdorff dreamed that his benefactor appeared 
to him and reproached him with the dishonor of withholding the 
secret from Hortense and her family. He awoke with a cold 
perspiration streaming from every pore. Now a firm determina- 
tion to reveal all came to his mind, such as he had never before 
felt. That evening found him alone with Hortense. He was 
remarkably calm in his manner, but the keen eyes of Hortense 
detected the true state of his mind, hidden beneath this unusual 
calmness. Her heart sank from au undefined apprehension. 
This she tried to shake off, and walked to the piano, sapng, 
with an effort to smile pleasantly: " Here, Willie, I have been 
practicing a new song; let me sing it for you." 

Without waiting for an answer, she let her fingers fall on the 
keys of the instrument, and, after a brilliant prelude, raised her 
voice in a song with more power and sweetness than he had ever 
thought could come from human voice. The song told a sad 
story of disappointed love, and was mournful beyond concep- 
tion, and as she sang Hortense's whole soul seemed poured out 
in sympathy with the theme of the song. Leidesdorff alwa^'S 
said, when telling of this circumstance, that, when in any sort of 
difficulty in after life, he could plainly hear Hortense singing 
that song, and that it never wholly left his ears. As she finished 
singing, she turned to look on her lover. He sat as pale as 
death, with his eyes fixed on hers, in admiration in which there 
was a mixture of terror. 

"Oh, I have frightened you with that sad song, I see; but 
never mind,William, I but followed a foolish inclination in sing- 
ing it, for do you know," and here she dropped her voice al- 
most to a whisper, " I dreamed last night that I sang that song 
for you, and that you then told mo your secret, and that it was 
the last song I ever sang in my life. How strange, was it not? 
Now, tell me the secret. That song,, you know, is the spell that 



156 PIOXEEB TIMES Df CAT.TFOKSIA. 

is to extort it from you." And again she tried to smile, but it 
faded away in an instant, and a vis.ible tremor passed oyer her 
frame. 

Leidesdorff seemed transfixed and speechless, and Hortense 
continued: " William, keep your promise, and let me share the 
secret with you. It -will be as safe with your Hortense, you 
know, as with yourself." 

Leidesdorff said, in describing this scene, that he felt then as 
:'f in fact under a spell that he could not resist. That song, it 
appeared to him, came from a heart he was condemned to break. 
He could endure the crowding sensations oppressing him no 
longer. He arose to his feet, and clasping his hands on his face, 
groaned as if in bodily pain. Then, suddenly turning to Hor- 
tense, he dropped on his knees before her, exclaiming, as he un- 
ccyered his haggard , white face., now showing plainly the dark 
blue shade around his handsome forehead: " Oh, hear me, 
Hortense ; and, if you can, forgiye and pity me." Hortense sat 
as motionless as a statue — the picttire of terror, her dark, burn- 
ing bright eyes alone showing life as they rested on the kneeling 
figure before her. " I haye neyer," he continued, " been guilty 
. of one dishonorable or dishonest act in my whole life; my father 
was the good Englishman who sent me here to my great bene- 
factor, who was in fact my uncle. I was bom in wedlock, as I 
have the proofs to show in my possession, though my father 
neyer openly acknowledged the marriage with my mother, for 
my poor mother, though yirtuous, pure and good " — here he 
stopped, and hesitated, then in a low, hustr yoice continued — 
" was of negro blood — was a mvdatto; and this is my secret, and 
my only crime is not haying reyealed it to you long ago. Oh, 
speak, Hortense, speak and say you do not despise and spurn 
me for this accident of my birth. Xo other woman did I ever 
love. Xo other woman can I ever love."' Pale and trembling, 
Hortense struggled for utterance, but seemed at first unable to 
command it. She clasped her hands on her forehead as if to 
steady her bKiin, and then with a start she sprang to her feet, 
and, leaning down over her yet kneeling lover, she whispered 
close to his ear: ""NVilliam, all is lost; my dream is out. I have 
sung my last song, just as I dreamed. There is a chasm between 
us; father will never yield, and, though my heart will break, I 
will never sully the honor of his house by a child's disobed- 
ience. Ko; oui dream of happiness is all over! Fly, "William, 



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158 PIONEER TIMES IK CALIFORNIA. 

ing a few hurried words of thanks to the kind shopkeeper, he 
rushed down the street to his ship. For all that and the next 
day he was completely unmanned. Towards the evening of the 
second day, the priest who had administered the last rites of the 
Church to poor Hortense called on him. The priest came, he 
said, to fulfill a promise he had made Hortense a few hours be- 
fore her death. That promise was, to bring Leidesdorif a little 
gold crucifix she had always worn from childhood, and repeat 
to him sweet consoling messages in proof of her love and truth 
to the last. These messages seemed to arouse young Leidesdorff 
once more to new life, and with a brave, if not cheerful heart, 
he threw out to the breeze the snowy canvas of his fine ship, and 
was soon out on the dark blue sea, where Hortense's spirit 
seemed ever near him, and the spread-out white sails of his ship 
were to him like angels' wings wafting him to a western home, 
where the prejudices dividing races, he hoped, should be un- 
known. 

After years spent in roving from port to port and island to 
island in the Pacific ocean, circumstances led Leidesdorff to 
make San Francisco his final resting-place. Here he died in the 
Summer of 1849, leaving a great deal of valuable real estate in 
his name, which, on his death, was taken charge of by the Al- 
calde, as was the custom in such cases, under Mexican law, un- 
til the legal heirs should make their appearance. When Cap- 
tain Folsom soon afterwards went East he visited the islands of 
Leidesdorff's nativity, and asserted that he had found the Leides- 
dorff heirs and purchased their right to the San Francisco prop- 
erty for some trifling amount. Man^^ doubted the genuineness 
of this transaction, and Colonel Geary, then Alcalde of San Fran- 
cisco, at first refused to give Folsom possession of the property. 
This point was, however, soon arranged to Colonel Geary's en- 
tire satisfaction, and in a most liberal manner on the part of 
Captain Folsom. He paid Geary ten thousand dollars as a com- 
promise for his commissions and fees, and the property was given 
up to Folsom without further objections on the part of Geary. 
"While Captain Folsom lived he was never entirely quiet in the 
possession of this vast estate. Many opened attacks on his title, 
and after making some points in the contest suddenly let the 
matter drop, to the surprise of lookers-on. After the death of 
Captain Folsom the i^roperty all fell into the hands of hungry 
thieves, who devoured it all, with the other property he had ac- 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 159 

cumulated, so that I believe the estate was finally declared in- 
solvent. 

The next memoir is that of Thomas O. Larkin. It is interest- 
ing and so truthful and modest in its tone that it appears en- 
tirely out of place in the " Annals." The history of California 
could not be correctly written and omit the name of Thomas O. 
Larkin from its pages. His whole career as a California pioneer 
and American citizen is without spot or blemish, so far as I ever 
heard. 

Then comes the memoir of General Sutter, whose connection 
with California pioneer history makes him famous. The me- 
moir of him found in the "Annals" amounts to nothing, though 
he was deserving of much. 

Then comes the memoir of General Vallejo. It is short, and 
in that respect is all the better for this old fox. 

Then comes the memoir of Edward Gilbert, whose early death 
we all so mourned. First, because by his death we lost as true 
a California pioneer as ever stepped on our shores. Secondly, 
because that life was lost through an act of folly. In giving 
this memoir of Mr. Gilbert, the authors of the "Annals" make one 
curious remark which is worthy of quoting: 

" The war had then been terminated, and it became necessary to select a 
civilian to act as Collector of the Port. * * # « » 

"The late General Mason, U. S. Army, then acting as Governor of the 
territory, appointed Mr. Gilbert to that office. This he declined. By doing 
so he voluntarily lost an opportunity of amassing a large fortune in a very 
short time. Mr. Harrison, who was subsequently appointed, having been 
the recipient of enormous revenues, through the oppoi-tunities given him by 
virtue of the the office of getting possession of property, was soon made al- 
most, if not quite, a millionaire." 

Nothing we ever knew of Edward Gilbert would lead us to 
suppose that, had he accepted the Collectorship, he would have 
appropriated funds belonging to the Government to his own use, 
yet from that above quotation it would seem as though the "An- 
nals" men thought he would have done so as a matter of course. 
In this thej' did that brave, honorable young man a great in- 
justice. 

Then comes the memoirs of several very nice gentlemen, in all 
respects good citizens and full as well deserving of being pa- 
raded as notables in the "Annals of San Francisco" as were at least 
three thousand other gentlemen whose names could have been 
taken from the city directoiy of those days, but who would not 
pay to have themselves thus advertised. 



160 PIONEEB TIMES IN CALITORXIA. 

Poor Theodore Payne, one of these "Annals" heroes, de- 
serves a j)assing remark, as he was on the ill-fated Central 
America when she foundered at sea, and had the distinction of 
being one of the two beings calling themselves men who begged 
of the captain to let them leave with the women and children, by 
which they saved their valuable lives. The " Annals " gives a 
woodcut of Payne's auction house, in San Francisco, where he 
and his friend Michael Keese put many a poor fellow's city lot 
through by a wink and a nod, in those days of fast and loose in 
California. 

Then comes a memoir of Colonel J. D. Stevenson. All old 
Californians will, I am sure, indorse every word of praise be- 
stowed on him. The Colonel was truly a bold, dashing, jpatriotic 
officer, and as such can alone be mentioned in the history of 
pioneer times in California. 

Then comes the memoir of William M. Gwin, which is but a 
modest historic summary of his life up to the time of his coming 
to California, and is presumed to be correct in every respect. 
It might be added that it was related of Dr. Gwin that, in the 
latter part of the year 1848, he was seated, one evening, in his 
own family circle, in Nashville, Tennessee, engaged in a game 
of whist, when the discovery of gold in California came up for 
discussion, and that Mrs. Gwin, his very accomplished wife, ex- 
claimed: " Doctor, I have just thought of it; you must be oflf to 
California at once and organize a State government there, and 
get yourself elected United States Senator from the new State." 
Be this as it may, it is undoubtedly true that the Doctor did 
come, and that from the date of his arrival among us he devoted 
his whole time to the organizing of a State government, and that 
he was elected United States Senator. He made a most valuable 
representative; always attentive, prompt, and kind to all Cali- 
fornians who needed his services at the National Capital, making 
no distinction between Republicans and Democrats in this re- 
spect. True and lojal to California in all things, her interest has 
never been watched with more jealous care than it was while Dr. 
Gwin was our Senator. His career as a California politician, in 
connection with that of David C. Broderick, will be a most inter- 
esting chapter in the political history of our State, should it ever 
be written. 

On the breaking out of the rebellion. Senator Gwin made, as 
we all thought, the great mistake of his life, in going South, 



pioNTER xmrs rr calitop.xli. IGl 

■which he did in company with many other Southern-born men. 
The will of California, his adopted State that had so honored 
him, we felt should have controlled his action. He -was identi- 
fied -with eveiy line of her American history, and this step of his 
looked to us like desertion. At the close of the rebellion he 
went to ^lexico, giving' his enemies another opportunity to per- 
sonally attack him and make it appear that he had thrown him- 
self into the wake of that donkey, Maximilian, "who met what 
■will always be regarded as a just fate at the hands of an outraged 
people, hundreds of whom he had put to death in cold blood 
while prisoners in his hands, on the pretence that they were 
rebels or traitors to his government. Thus it is that our old 
Senator has brought upon a career, otherwise brilliant, a sort of 
shadow or cloud that it seems hard to clear away; though none 
of us can ever forget his fidelity to our State and his untarnished 
reputation as an honest and honorable man, who left office as 
poor in pocket as he was the day he was elected Senator by the 
California Legislature, in San Jose, in 1849. Senator Gwin is 
now residing in San Francisco with his charming family, quietly 
enjoying the ample income of one of the best mining f)roperties 
in our State, developed by the perseverance and untiring energy 
of his son "SVilliam. 

The "Annals" write up as a notable Jacob P. Leese, and in 
doing so they try to give the impression that to write the history 
of San Francisco and California con-ectly and omit J. P. Leese 
was impossible. According to the "Annals,"' Leese was the 
hero of the first settlement in San Francisco, the master of the 
first American feast given there, and the father of the first child 
born there. All this is humbug. Leese's career in California 
was entii'el}' selfish, and in no particular was it worth noticing 
in connection with the early history of our State. This first 
baby business the authors of the "Annals" are fond of record- 
ing. They tell us that Mrs. Larkin was the mother of the first 
American child in California, that Mrs. Leese was the mother of 
the first child in San Francisco, that ^L-s. Geary was the mother 
of the first American child in San Francisco. All this ■uould be 
interesting if its untruth was not so plain as to make it absurd. 
The close of Leese's career in California illustrates the old 
adage. "Praise no man until he is dead" — but of this, out of 
respect to a large and worthy family left by Leese in Monterey 
county, I will say nothing. 



CHAPTER XIV. 

THE SOCIETY OF CALIFORNIA PIONEERS THEIR INDORSEMENT OF THE 

"annals." "woman's RIGHTS." TRUE SPHERE OF A WOMAN 

RESOURCES OF CALIFORNIA NEWSPAPERS, BANKS AND MANUFAC- 
TORIES THE JUDICIARY THE RAILROADS AND THE NEW CONSTI- 
TUTION — CALIFORNIANS WHO HAVE WON LAURELS IN THE EAST — ■ 

LOSS OF THE CENTRAL AMERICA RESCUE OF THE WOMEN AND 

CHILDREN BY THE BRIG " MARINE." TERRIBLE PARTINGS — COW- 
ARDICE OF TWO MEN OTHERS SAVED GENERAL SHERMAN's AC- 
COUNT A passenger's STORY. 

I think I have said enough to show the true character of this 
" Annals " book, and to satisfy all that its i^icture of the first 
immigrants to California after the discovery of gold, is a false and 
slanderous one in the extreme. You, my young readers, who 
are the children of those immigrants, owe it to yourselves to vindi- 
cate your parents. 

Let every one of you boys who can do so, enroll your names as 
members of the " Society of California Pioneers," and then de- 
mand the adoi^tion of a formal resolution by the Society, repudi- 
ating this book and its dedication to them. Do more. Demand 
that an amendment be made to the constitution of the Society 
which will admit as members j^our mothers, the brave women of 
the pioneer days, and their female children as well as their male. 
There is no reason why they should bo excluded. Did they noii 
face and share every danger and privation with the men, and 
was it not more heroic in them to do so than it was in the men ? 
Was not the advent of one good, virtuous woman in those days 
of more value to the State than the coming of any twenty men 
that ever appeared among us ? What is the object of this Society 
of California Pioneers ? Its constitution says : 

" To cultivate the social virtues of its members, to collect and preserve in- 
formation connected with the early settlement and conquest of the country, 
and to perpetuate the memory of those whose sagacity, enterprise and love 
of independence induced them to settle in the wilderness and become 
the germ of a now State." 

What is there in the objects as here laid down that should ex- 
clude the women of '49 from membership? Nothing, surely; 
but everything to point to its entire propriety and fitness. 



PIONEER TMES I^* CALIIOKXIA. 163 

They and tlieir daughters should not only be admitted members, 
but, in their case, no entrance fee or yearly subscription should 
be charged. This Society is regarded with great favor and 
almost affection by all old Californians, even by those who are 
not members. The Legislature of California has favored it in 
legislation when required, and many citizens have made it valua- 
ble donations. It should be the peculiar guardian of the charac- 
ter and standing of the first immigi'ants to California . Let it be 
true to its mission then, and spurn the dedication of a book that 
is sought to be made attractive onh' by wholesale slander and 
misrepresentation of the pioneers. If the men of those times 
had alone been attacked in this book, perhaps I never would 
have taken up my pen to write these pages. I would most 
likely, in that case, have been content to let it i^ass with con- 
tempt; but that our female population should be attacked, and 
those attacks dedicated to the Society of California Pioneers, 
was a little more than human patience could be expected to 
endure. For the first ten or fifteen years after the publication 
of this book, it was let pass unnoticed, for its vagaries and mis- 
representations were too well known to us all to make a contra- 
diction seem worth while; and then the flattering memoirs it 
gave of the many would-be prominent men in San Francisco 
secured the influence of those gentlemen to prevent criticism; 
then the old adage of " What is every one's business is no one's 
business," came in to help to save it; besides, in these fast, 
busy years, we all have had our hands full of private busi- 
ness, requiring our whole attention from sunrise to sunset. But 
now, in this year of our Lord, 1881, the scene is fast changing; 
our sons and our daughters, born to us in California, ai-e begin- 
ning to take our places in the active duties of life, leaving us 
time to talk to them and to write to them. The jiioneers are fast 
passing away, so that after a while not a man will be left to con- 
tradict the terrible statements of this book, dedicated to the men 
who should have been the guardians of the honor of the 
pioneers. A. very little while ago, a woman, lecturing in San 
Francisco, spoke in the most disrespectful manner of the women 
of '49, quoting from " The Annals of San Francisco" in support 
of her disrespectful language. Surelj", then, it is time for some 
one to expose this book, and I only regret that an abler pen has 
not undertaken to do so. But the object is accomplished, in my 
plain way, when once attention is drawn to the subject. I 



1G4 PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. ■ 

understand the book is often quoted by lecturers, both in the 
Eastern States and in England, to show our wholesale moral de- 
pravity. The man who would defraud a woman of one right 
that is justly hers, is a creature without one particle of true 
manhood; but the man who slanders the character of a woman, 
or a community of women, is a wretch of the lowest grade of 
humanity, and should be dealt with accordingly. 

I hope that nothing that I have said conveys the idea that I 
favor that political heresy, the so-called "Woman's Eights" 
movement, for I not only do not do so, but I look on it with 
almost contempt, because such a movement must come 
from men who are incapable of appreciating the character of a 
true ivoman, when faithfully fulfilling those duties so manifestly 
assigned to her by God himself. Yes; I look on the movement 
with pity and regret, because it comes also, in part, from women 
who, not seeing their true exalted position, seek to de- 
grade themselves to the rough and rugged ways forced upon 
man, in his fierce battle through the world. Grod made woman 
fair and beautiful in person, and endowed her mind and disiDOsi- 
tion with charms far more alluring and attractive ' than even 
those of her person. He gave her a sphere of duties totally dif- 
ferent and of a more beautiful, if not of a higher character, than 
he assigned to man. Men are created rough, strong and stern; 
unyielding in mind and purpose. To them He assigned the labor 
of subduing the rugged earth to cultivation and fruitfulness. 
To them He assigned the defence of the nation, even when it 
leads to the battlefield, where, without feeling or mercy, they 
are to cut down and slaughter the national enemy. To them He 
has assigned the duty of bringing to even-handed justice the 
wicked and villainous of the community, imprisoning the one 
and strangling the other, as the safety of the community may 
demand. To them He has assigned the duty of enacting the 
laws necessary to govern the community, from which duty they 
cannot shrink, though arguments, quarrels and personal strifes 
may be the consequence, and the necessity sometimes. To them 
He has plainly given the protection of women from all harm or 
aspersion of character, in the performance of which they must, 
if necessary, yield life itself, or be recreant to the great trust 
reposed in them. To woman is given the exclusive care and 
control of household duties, for which her loving nature, her 
quick perception and gentle disposition are all so necessary, so 



pio:;Ei:r. Ti:.ir3 in CALi7or.NiA. 1G5 

absolutely indisj)ensable. Under her fostering care the simplest 
surroundings become beautiful and charming. Where woman 
is there is sure to be all that can refine and elevate our thoughts 
and aspirations above the groveling things with which our daily 
duties may compel us to mingle. To woman is given to lessen 
the austerities of the battlefield, or the terrible fate of the crimi- 
nal. To her is especially given the care of the unfortunate of 
both sexes. To her is given the divine mission of bringing to 
the household the joyous jiresenee of children, and to her 
watchful care and Heaven-inspired, unselfish, devoted love 
are assigned all the young years of those children, to form and 
adorn their characters with all that shall make them pleasing to 
God, and valuable members of the community in which they live. 
Above all good gifts, it is given to woman to excel in her devo- 
tion, x>iety and faith in God. To her is given the power, the 
duty to beckon back to the paths of rectitude and virtue ening 
men; for to her persuasive, gentle words the proudest man will 
often listen vv^hen he has scorned all others. 

From this sphere of glorious duties, so necessary to the well- 
being of the community, shall we take gentle woman and thrust 
her rudely into the field of party politics, with its wrangling and 
bitter contentions ? — a field that even strong, rough men feel 
loth to enter, for there the bitterest hates and enmities are 
often engendered, degrading to all. Never, I ti-ust, shall such a 
a thing be permitted, while woman respects herself, and man 
values and honors her as he has a right to do. It is a woman's 
right that every avenue to profitable employment suitable for 
her should be thrown open to her, and, in many cases, reserved 
for her by provision of law. If this were done, women would be 
more independent in their choice of partners for life, and 
consequently more happy. This is the sort of " woman's rights" 
I woiild most cheerfully join in advocating. 

I think I have said enough to satisfy any one that the "Annals 
of San Francisco " is no authority as to the character of the 
pioneers, either men or women, and that you, their children, 
have nothing to be achamed of in their regard, but much to be 
proud of. We, the pioneers, feel proud of the great j'oung 
State we are turning over to your charge. Yes; we are proud, 
for look at our schools; they are to be found in every nook and 
corner, so that no boy or girl in the State can have an excuse for 
not acquiring a reasonably good education. Look at our high 



166 PIONEER TIMES IN CALITOENIA. 

schools, academies and colleges, all over the State, both public 
and private, affording to all the very highest grade of education. 
Look at the number of California pioneers who have distin- 
guished themselves in the literary world. Look at our book and 
publishing houses; their great success in business reflects credit 
on us. We can also claim that the newspaper press of our State, 
taken as a whole, will compare favorably with that of any other 
State in the Union. We claim that it is remarkably free from 
unfairness in its contentions, either in religious or political mat- 
ters. Of course, there are some exceptions to this, but the ex- 
ceptions are few, and are generally of so low a character that 
they are not worth a notice. . 

We point to the circulation of our daily press as a marvel, and 
being mostly Avell deserved a credit to us. Look at our 
agricultural resources and developments. We already begin to 
feed the outside world with grain which commands a higher price 
than that of any other country on earth. Our farmers, too, can- 
not be surpassed in bold enterprise and skill, that should insure 
to them success. Look at our infant manufactories. They now, 
in the character of their products, though of course not in quan- 
tity, outrank those of any other State in the Union. Look at 
our leading mercantile houses and banking institutions; 
for honor, enterprise and stability they stand first among the 
first, the world over. In what city in the world do we find such 
a young giant in the business of banking springing into existence 
as the Bank of Nevada ? It is a California wonder. May success 
attend the enterprising men who control its destinies. 

Look at the judiciary of our State. The judiciary everywhere 
is a good index by which to judge of the moral worth of the 
community, for a pure judiciary' can only come from a good peo- 
ple. For years our Supreme Bench, taken as a whole, with 
Wallace as its chief, could challenge comparison with that of 
any State in the Union. 

We have reason to be proud, too, of the brilliant talent of our 
Bar, where such men as Wallace, McKinstry, McKee, Felton, 
Patterson, Wilson, McAllister, Hoge, Cohen, Doyle, Haight, 
Barnes and Casserly, not forgetting the pride of the Working- 
men, Clitus Barbour, and many others, ha%'e won distinction 
and more than a State reputation as jurists. 

Look at our railroad enterprise. It equals, if it does not excel, 
that of any State in the Union, or that of any country on earth. 



PIONEER TElIES IN CU^IFORXLV. 167 

TVe may condemn the policy and management of those railroad 
men, for bejond all doubt they do many outrageously wrong 
things; but we cannot help feeling joroud of these mighty works 
that, if managed in the interest of the people, would make our 
State great and prosperous. Nor are their projectors that class 
of men who, having made riches among us, rush off to the East- 
ern cities to spend it. For such no true Californian has 'my 
respect, even if they do give a dinner in New York once a year 
to glorify themselves as Calif ornians. As to the railroad ques- 
tion, now so agitating to the public mind, the trouble comes 
from the fact that our means of transportation and locomotion are 
put into the hands of corporations, which gives the corporations 
a power over us by which they can make us the veriest slaves 
that over served a master. It gives them a power as great 
almost as if by right the}- could control the air we breathe or 
the water we drink. The people will soon wake and comprehend 
the remedy, which is to take the ownership of all railroads into 
their own hands and run them exclusively in the interest of the 
people and the State. The nevr Constitution, just adopted, made 
a bold effort to control the exactions of the railroad monopolies, 
by providing for a Board of Commissioners, with full power to do 
so. But the Commissioners elected b}- the people have proven 
recreant to the great trust rejjosed in them. Two of them, with 
perfidy unequaled in the political history of our State, having 
openly deserted the people, and now, with shameless impudence, 
exhibit themselves as pliant tools in the hands of that great mo- 
nopoly. That these creatures are despised by all good men, is 
no relief to the pillaged people. 

If there is one location on earth a California '49er loves more 
than another, it is that of, to him, dear San Francisco; that 
proud young city of the Pacific coast. It is identified with 
all the trials, hopes and joys of his early manhood's struggle 
for an honorable position in life; and, no matter where his lot 
may be cast, San Francisco holds a place in his memory that it , 
is sweet for him to dwell on. Her growth and prosperity is a 
pride to every true 'idev. To you, boys of San Francisco, I 
take the liberty of a 'J:9er, who did his -pavt in helping to lay 
the foundation of your prosperous city, to suggest to you to im- 
prove her dress by sweeping from her streets, by enactment of 
law, with one dash, the names of her despoilers and her "no- 
bodies;" and replace them with the names of our old patriot 



168 PIONEEE TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 

Presidents and the names of the Eastern States of the Union. 
Your doing this will bring a home feeling and a respectability to 
each of the streets now burdened with the name of a thief or a 
scalawag. At the time Eddy made his map of the city he took 
the authority upon himself of naming the streets. He first 
named one for each of the members of the gang of worthies for 
whom he worked, of course saddling one with his own name. 
He then gave out that for a basket of champagne or three gallons 
of whisky " anybody" could have a street called after him. In 
this way the little rascal kept himself half drunk for about a 
year. Go to work, boys, and do not let an unworthy name rest 
as a blight on a street in your city. In all the future guard her 
from the schemes of grasping, selfish men, and when you find 
there is danger and you are hard pressed, call on the boys of the 
whole State to help you; and fear not, for your call will be re- 
sponded to, as in those days when she was saved by 
Governor Downey fi-om wholesale robbery. We leave you 
a city and a State in a high state of prosperity. Do not 
fear to send them ahead with every inch of canvas s}Dread; if 
you only keep the right man at the helm, all will go well. A 
few breakers or sunken rocks lurk treacherously beneath the 
waters ahead of you, always there, though only showing them- 
selves much in stormy weather. They are the Chinese curse, 
the unsolved railroad problem, the growing power of all the 
monopolies, over-taxation, unfairness in its levy, and the 
craving for public office that besets so many of our young men. 
These dangers avoided or overcome, nothing can stop your on- 
ward career to a position of greatness never attained by any 
nation on earth. 

There is a fact connected with the early settlement of this 
State which is complimentary. It is the marked favor with 
which returned Californians were always received in the Eastern 
States. Notably, we may point to Fremont, whose connection 
with California nearly made him President of the United States 
in 1856; John W. Geary, who became Governor of Pennsylvania; 
Rodman M. Price, who was elected to Congress from New Jersey 
and was afterwards her Governor; Caleb Lyons, an eccentric little 
man, who claimed the credit of fashioning the great seal of Califor- 
nia — and it was all he ever did, if he did that, while in California, to 
make himself known on his return to his native town in the 
State of New York — was elected to Congress, I think, three times 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 1G9 

in succession, and then got some government appointment. 
John Hacket, who practiced law in San Francisco for two or 
three years, on returning to New York, was for many 3-ears 
elected Recorder of that city. There was James W. "White, who 
practiced law in San Francisco one year; on returning to New 
York was elected Judge of the Superior Court of that city. 
There was Benard, well known in this State, who, on returning 
to New York, was also placed on the Bench. I could fill a whole 
chapter with the names of favored returned Californians, without 
going into the military department, where we would find Sher- 
man, Grant, Halleck and a host of others, who were once iden- 
tified with California as civilians. 

The loss of the Central America, on the Atlantic side, 
which occurred on September the 20th, 1857, serves to show 
what sort of material went to make up the true Calif ornian. For 
brave, cool courage, under the most trying circumstances, they 
cannot, we believe, be surpassed by any people on the face of 
the earth. This steamer was on her trip from Panama to New 
York, filled with Californians, men, women and children. She 
sprung a leak off Cape Hatteras, which it was found impossible to 
stanch or overcome. After the most desperate and heroic efforts 
of the Captain and officers, the attempt to keep her up was aban- 
doned. Just at that moment came in sight the brig Marine, 
Captain Hiram Burt. She was signaled, and soon ran alongside 
the Central America. This brig was so small and her accom- 
modations so limited in every way that all she could do was to 
offer to take all the women and children. This was accepted by 
Captain Harndon, of the Central America, who was as brave a 
man as ever stepped on deck of ship. Then a scene was enacted 
that challenges the history of the world for its match in cool 
courage and unwavering fortitude. The Captain announced to 
the assembled passengers that the steamer could not float moro 
than half an hour, and that the brig Marine, alongside, could 
only take the women and children. " Now," said he, " get your 
wives and children and every woman on board ready, and I will 
put them on the brig, and we men will shift for ourselves the 
best we can, trusting in God to aid us." 

Every man present assented, calling out cheerfully: "All 
right, Captain, all right; we are satisfied." 

The women alone objected, calling out: " Oh, Caj^tain, that 
is too terrible. Let us stay, and all die together." 



170 PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 

The Cap lain silenced all their cries by declaring that if the 
women wanted to give the men any chance for their lives, they 
would at once obey orders implicitly and go on board the brig. 
This brought acquiescence and prompt obedience from the 
"women. Then came the quick and terrible parting of father and 
child, husband and wife, brother and sister, as terrible to them 
all as death itself. It cannot be imagined, much less described. 
Among all the men two only proved cowardly, and the Captain, 
with expressions of contempt, ordered them on board the brig 
with the women. The story of this steamer is well worth read- 
ing. My space will not permit me to say more of it. The 
Marine, with the women and children, it will be found, 
reached Norfolk, Virginia, in safet}', where nothing could sur- 
pass the aflectionate kindness of the jjeople of that old town 
towards them all. A Swedish bark picked up some seventy of 
the men. General Sherman, in his memoirs, on page 135, gives 
the following account of the saving of these men, which is inter- 
esting : 

"In the midst of this panic came the news that the steamer Central 
America, formerly the George Law, with six hundred i^assengers and 
§1,000,000 of treasure, coming from Aspinwall, had foundered at sea off 
the coast of Georgia, and that about sixty of the passengers had been pro- 
videntially picked np by a Swedish bark, and brought into Savannah. The 
absolute loss of this treasure went to swell the confusion and panic of the 
day. 

"A few days after, I was standing in the restaurant of the Metropolitan 
Hotel, and heard the Captain of the Swedish bark tell his singular story of 
the rescue of these passengers. He was a short, sailor-like looking man, 
with a strong German or Swedish accent. He said he was sailing from some 
port in Honduras for Sweden, running down the gulf stream, off Savannah. 
The weather had been heavy for some days, and about nightfall, as he paced 
his deck, he observed a man-of-war hawk circle about his vessel, gradually 
lowering until the bird was, as it were, aiming at him. He jerked out a be- 
laying-pin, struck at the bird, and missed it, when the hawk again rose high 
in the air, and a second time began to descend, contract, his circle and 
make at him again. The second time he hit the bird and struck it to the 
deck. This strange fact made him uneasy, and he thought it betokened 
tlanger. He went to the binnacle, saw the course he was steering, and, with- 
out any i^articular reason, he ordered the steersman to alter the course one 
point to the east. 

"After this it became quite dark, and he continued to promenade the 
deck, and had settled into a drowsy state, when, as in a dream, he thought 
he heard voices all round his ship. Waking up, he saw at the side of his 
ship, something struggling in the water, and heard clearly cries for help. 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA.. 171 

Instantly heaving his ship to and lowering his boats, he was able to pick np 
sixty or more persons, who were floating about on skylights, doors and what- 
ever fragments remained of the Central America. Had he not changed 
the course of his vessel by reason of the mysterious conduct of the man-of- 
war hawk, not a soul would probably have survived the night." 

General Sherman, in writing his memoirs, had evidently for- 
gotten the circumstance of the brig Marine saving the women and 
children, as he makes no mention of it, and says that all but 
those saved by the Swedish brig were lost. 

One of the passengers saved, in giving the narration of the dis- 
aster, says: 

'•' I was standing on the after part of the steamer with a life- 
preserver on, undecided how to act, when suddenly the vessel 
seemed to tremble all over, as if in fear, and then she made a 
dive forward and went to the bottom. I, of course, went with 
her, ingulfed in the roaring, closing waters. Down, down I 
went, as if to follow her; then suddenly I felt myself stop de- 
scending, and now I shot up as rapidly as I had descended, 
until my body fairly leaped out of the sea. As my head cleaved 
the water, I heard my mother's voice, as plainly as I ever heard 
it in my life, saying, ' Oh, Henry, how could you eat your sis- 
ter's grapes ? ' Twenty years before, when a mere boy, I had a 
poor, sick sister, dying of cunsumption, for whom some grapes 
had been procured, I suppose with great difficulty. On coming 
across them, boy-like, I eat them; and that Avas my motlier'a 
exclamation on discovering what I had done. Othei's of the 
passengers who had made the same terrible dive I had, had the 
same strange experience on reaching the surface of the foaming 
sea. They believed they heard distinctly all around them voices 
familiar only in long past years." 

The London Timts newspaper, after giving the particulars of 
this shipwreck, concludes its remarks on it with the exclama- 
mation, " Americans, be proud of your countrymen!" And I 
say to you, my young readers, " Be proud of the California 
pioneers." 

There is another fact worthy of note that we Californians have 
to be proud of. It is the superior moral tone of our first-class 
theatrical amusements; for it is a fact, that all our stage man- 
agers will attest, that of late years in the most fashionable the- 
aters of New York and other Eastern cities, plays are put on the 
stage, without objection, that would disgust and scatter a Cali- 



172 pioxzrr. tdte'^ i:r CAI.T^oE^^A. 

fornia audience. Californians are too proud and independent 
iu their cliaracters to be uilling- to sacrifice their sense of moral 
right for the sake of aping the immodest exhibitions of second- 
class French theaters. My dear young readers, in all the future 
ever foster and guard this purity of taste in your public amuse- 
ments which now marks our people. It is a glorious distinction, 
upon which you cannot set too high a value. 



CHAPTEE XV. 

rASCELATIOX OF PIOXEEE miES — .iJSTCIXJXES A^"D 570EIES IS niUS- 

tbahox. 

I •vrill devote the remainiiig pages of this volume to anecdotes 
and stories that I think will convey to you a vivid picture of our 
pioneer times in California, -without requiring you to wade 
through any dry descriptions. There was a spirit of off-hand, 
jolly fun in those days, that I want you to comprehend. It was 
neither "brave wickedness" nor "splendid folly,"' so praised by 
the "Annals, " but a sort of universal free and easy cheerfulness, 
that encouraged all sorts of droUery and merriment to show 
themselves continually, mixed up with the sober realities of our 
daily L'fe. The California pioneer that could not give and take a 
joke was just no Caliiomian at all. Business that was transacted 
without some fun cropping out was dry and disagreeable. It was 
this spirit that gives the memory of those days that indescriba- 
ble fascination and charm, which we all feel when looking back 
to our pioneer life. 

I had collected many anecdotes to give in illustration of this 
point, but my space compels me to lay several of them aside. 
The few I give, together with the three stories of ' "'Ellen Harvey, "' 
"Ada Allen* and '"Minnie "Wagner,' will, I hope, be sufficient 
to shade this characteristic of our people into my picture, and 
make it, as a whole, agreeably complete. 

The anecdotes are just as repeated to me in the neighborhood 
of their occurrence. 

The story of Ellen Harvey, I take from the following circum- 
stance: 

A young married lady arrived from the East, on one of the 
Panama steamers, in 1850. She came to join her husband, who 
was in business in a town in the interior. Before her husband 
arrived from his place of business, a lady who had known her at 
home called to see her while she was yet on board the steamer, 
and told her some stories that were current of her husband's 



174 



PIONEER TIMES IX CALIFCllNlA. 



unfaithfulness. This threw the young wife into the bitterest and 
most i^assionate grief. She was of one of the first families of her 
native city, beautiful, of a high order of intellect, and of the 
most delicate jDurity of character. She refused to see her hus- 
band, except he could assure her of the falsity of the charges 
made against him. This, it appears, he was unable wholly to do. 
So the wife demanded of the Captain of the steamer on which 
she had arrived, that he would let her remain on board and take 
her back with him to Panama on his return. The husband 
heard that the Captain had consented to this arrangement, and 
for doing so he sent him a challenge. The Captain refused to 
fight, and made an explanation fully satisfactory. The parties, 
husband and wife, were both Catholics, and resort was had to a 
Catholic priest for guidance and advice. This priest turned out 
to be an old friend of the lady's family. Long negotiations en- 
sued, which resulted in a reconciliation in every way, except their 
immediate re-union. The wife was to return East and live with 
the husband's mother until the husband could follow her, which 
he was to do in a reasonable time. And so it was said that they 
parted, without even meeting each other in San Francisco. 
These circumstances were only known to a few who were more 
or less connected with the shipping interest of that day, but 
wherever known they aroused a feeling of the deepest sympathy 
for the parties. 

I was very much interested myself at the time, and in some 
years afterwards I obtained full notes of the personal history of 
both husband and wife from the lady's cousin, with whom I was 
well acquainted. From these notes I have woven this storj', keep- 
ing the main facts, as related to me, strictly in view. The Susan 
March scene, and her history, is almost literally true. It was 
related to me by "Black Bob," the washerwoman's husband. 

The story of "Ada Allen" is all through nothing more than a 
grouping of actual occurrences, many of which were related 
to me by Captain Casseiiy, and are only altered and changed in 
the story to avoid offensive intrusion on individual private history. 
Mrs. Doctor Bucket, and some others of the characters 
brought into this story, may be recognized by old Californians, 
or by the parties themselves, but I hope not in an offensive way 
to any of them. 

The story of Minnie Wagner is of the same character in all 
respects. 



PIONEER TIMES IX CALIFORNIA. 175 

The Mrs. Liglitlieril of this storj- is uo fictitious character. 
Nor is that of Johnny Luckj. He will be recalled to memory 
by many '49ers, and it may be owing to his wild stories that in 
1850 there was a floating rumor in San Francisco, traceable to 
no very good authority, that a pirate ship had been fitted out in 
Sidney, under the command of a cashiered officer of the British 
navy, intended to intercept and capture the steamer conveying 
gold from San Francisco to Panama. That such a story was 
current about that time is certain, but how it got afloat is hard 
to determine. 

When Johnny got in one of his talkative moods he always said 
he came to San Francisco in a j)irate ship; that she anchored 
near Saucelito, and that her captain was murdered by his first 
officer and one of his sailors in a desperate fight on shore, on a 
cliff of high land that he used to point out, a mile or so west 
of the old watering place of Saucelito, and about half way be- 
tween there and Point Caballo, where the United States has 
since erected a fortification. This cliff we used to call " Pirates' 
Point." 

In company with a friend, I paid a visit to this spot 
many years ago, and again very lately. It is about eighty or 
one hundred feet above the water of the bay. "When first I saw 
it, I should think it extended out about forty yards further than 
it does now. It then shelved out over the bay, resting, it seemed, 
securely on a huge rock. A luxurious growth of grass and wild 
flowers covered the ground, beneath a grove of young oaks, 
making the location romantic and un surpassingly beautifoil. On 
the very outer edge stood an old oak tree, yielding, in its life- 
long struggle with the merciless prevailing west wind, until its 
half bare branches almost touched the ground. This was the 
tree that was so connected with the murder that saved Minnie's 
and her brother's lives. When I saw it on the first visit, there 
was a piece of rope, said to have been part of the one used by 
the infuriated mate^ yet fastened around its trunk. On my 
recent visit I discovered that the great supporting rock had given 
way, perhaps shaken from its bed by some of our earthquake 
shocks; and with it had gone a large jDiece of the point. The 
other surroundings are all exactly as of old. I found the name 
" Brown" cut in the bark of one of the little oaks yet standing 
near the edge of the cliff as it is now shaped. I mused over it a 
moment. " Yes; Brown was the name of Lusk's friend, lost, as 



176 PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFOKNIA. 

"we supposed, in the Blue Bell. Can it be that he escaped, after 
all, and, impelled by some unaccountable influence, had come to 
visit this spot and cut his name on that tree." Though I re- 
jected this idea as absurd, yet, as I walked away from the cliff, a 
queer, mysterious feeling- seemed to come over me, which it took 
hours to shake off. 

Should any of my fair readers, when roaming in that beautiful 
and romantic neighborhood, be incited to visit " Pirates' Point," 
they will recognize it by the mysterious name cut in the little 
oak. But let their visit be in the bright, warm sunshine of 
springtime, when, as they cross the rippling, crystal little brook 
at the foot of the hill, from which the point makes out over the 
bay, they will be charmed to kneel and drink of its invigorating 
and inspiring waters. Yes; when every bush they pass is all 
music, so filled is it with the sweet notes of the California linnet 
and meadow lark. Yes; let their visit be when the ground be- 
neath their feet is covered with a carpet woven of wild flowers 
and luxuriant grass, and more beautiful than ever came from 
Eastern loom. Then will their imagination bring before them 
Minnie, in all her beauty of person, covered with the priceless 
jewels of truth, fidelity and unwavering trust in God, that so lit 
up the gloom in the darkest hour of trial, and guided her own 
and her brother's steps in safety through every difficulty that 
beset their pioneer life. No, they must not visit that spot in the 
somber months of the year, or when, at the approach of night, it 
is mantled in a gloomy fog, rushing in from the lonesome sea; 
for then their imagination could only picture a frightful scene of 
strife and murder, made inexpressibly' hideous by the low mut- 
tered curses and imprecations they would fancy they heard uttered 
by the murderers and the murdered, above which would seem 
in sight the dark eyes of Lizzie Lawson, fixed with unrelenting 
gaze on her false lover, as her father dragged him step by step to 
the fearful cliff. Yes; and as they turned away frightened by 
the vision, the gloom on that spot is sure to bring to the imagina- 
tion, they would fancy they heard the cry of anguish from poor 
Agnes Ward's spirit, as her child was forced by an unpitying 
hand to the dark doom he so well deserved. 

I did not draw on my imagination for Minnie's escape from 
the gamblers on the Sacramento river steamer. It was related 
to me by Jim Becket, at one time prince of sports in San Fran- 
cisco. J ust before he left the State he sauntered one morning into 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 



ill 



my place of business. He looked sad and gloomy. I said, as I 
looked tip from the box of goods I was packing: 

"Why, Jim, you look as if you had just come from a fu- 
neral." 

" Worse than that," said he. 

"Why, what is up, Jim? You generally look happy. What 
can have happened you ?" 

He then went on to tell me that he had just come back from a 
visit to a lady to whom he had once been of great service. 
I became interested, and asked him to come into my private 
office and tell me all about it. I always liked this man. I 
never was in his gambling room, or turned a card with him in 
my life, but somehow he fancied me and did nearly all his 
private business through me, and then he always advised 
me 'never to touch a card.' So it was natural I should like 
him, j)articularly as I always found him strictly honorable 
and truthful in all business transactions. After we were seated 
and had lit our cigars he gave the story of Minnie's escape, as I 
have given it in the story, concluding with: 

"W^ell, I have just been to Oregon, and, finding where she 
was li-sdng with her husband, I wrote a line from Portland to 
know if a visit from a man like me would be agreeable. In 
reply I got a letter from her husband with as cordial an invi- 
tation as if he was my brother. So the next day I took the 
steamer for his locality, and they met me at the landing with a 
carriage and the warmest welcome. For a whole week they 
treated me, at their beautiful home, as if I was a prince and a 
brother, too. I tell you, Grey," he continued, "that week gave 
me a taste of Heaven, and I grew more disgusted at my way 
of life than I ever was before. Yet Minnie; yes, I call her 
Minnie, for she refused to let me call her anything else, never 
directly asked me to change to a better mode of living, but 
somehow everything she did for me and said to mo seemed to ask 
me to do so. She taught her beautiful little child to call me 
"Uncle James." On leaving, they brought me back to the land- 
ing in their carriage, and we parted, I suppose, never to meet 
again, as I am about to return to Baltimore, and I feel miser- 
able ever since I left them; yes, miserable to think how un- 
worthy I was to be so treated by the most beautiful, the most 
intelligent, and the best woman in America, and by her hus- 
band, who is as good a man as she is a woman." 
12 



178 PIOXEEE Tl-SIES IX CLLIFORXIA. 

Very soon after this conversatiou Becket left the State. I rec- 
ollect seeing bis name in the Eastern newspapers as connected 
•with large bets on President Buchanan's election, and later still 
we heard of his death. Poor Jim! If he had his grave faults, 
he had many redeeming points as well. 

In concluding this recital of the facts upon which mv stories 
are woven, I will state that the character of Lusk cannot be 
classed as fictitious, for an Englishman of fine pei-sonal 
appearance and good education, claiming a jDarentage exactly 
such as that of Lusk, figured among the Sydney men, in 1851, 
in San Francisco, and disappeared, no one knows where or how. 



CHAPTER XVI 



A CAUFOESIA MISEB A SPECULATIOX IX HOGS — A MAF.RTAGE OF A BASH- 
FUL WOMAN' A LIFE SATED BY XEW YORK LAW A LAWYEe's FIEST 

APPEAKAXCE Es COUET A GOOD SPEECH RESERVED SQUATTERS DIS- 
PERSED BY P^EFUSESG TO TALK A CASE WOX BY USESG AX IRISH 

AUTHORITY A "DIVIDE''' WITH EOBBEES AN"D LAWYERS DAX MXTJ-HT 

LOSES HIS CASH. 

Tlie people of California are admitted by all to be remarkable 
for their liberality in their espendilrui-e of wealth. They are 
liberal to all sorts of charities, to churches and schools. They 
are liberal in small matters as well as in large. The collections 
taken up at a church on Sundays in San Francisco would as- 
tonish the vestry people of any church in New England, or even 
in New York. In San Francisco, in old times a "quarter" or a 
' • half "' was the least dropped into the contribution-box on Sun- 
days. No man in California ever used a nickel, much less a cop- 
per cent; and many of you, my young readers, I presume have 
never seen either; ten cents being generally the lowest coin in 
use among us. 

In all my experience I only knew one miser in California, and 
that was John P. Davidson. It was strange, too, that Davidson 
was a miser, for he was born in Ireland, and from eai-ly boyhood 
was brought up in Kentucky — two countries proverbial for lavish 
hospitality and open-handed liberality. He was so well known 
in early times to many in San Francisco, that a little of his his- 
tory, I think, is worth giving, particularly as it will helj) out 
my picture of pioneer days in some essential points. 

Davidson was tall, and rather a good looking man; tolerably 
well educated, and was, at one time, captain of a fine steamer on 
the ^Mississippi river. He was of a decidedly religious turn of 
mind, and this put some of his acts of questionable honesty in a 
ludicrous point of view to lookers on. The truth was that his 
miserly, grasping disposition so controlled him that he found it 



180 PIOXEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA, 

hard to keep himself honest, and sometimes he failed in doing 
so outright. While in San Francisco he was a member of Kev. 
Mr. Williams' Presbyterian church, and always very regular in 
his attendance on Sundays; but somehow he never recollected to 
have a coin in his pocket for the contribution box, though some- 
what a rich man. 

One Sunday afternoon Mr. Williams gave out that the follow- 
ing Sunday a brother felergyman would preach in his pulpit for 
a charitable object, and requested that every member of his 
church should come prepared to respond to the call on their 
liberality, provided they liked the object. The following Sunday 
I was in my store, with the doors closed, of course, preparing 
myself for church and my Sunday's walk over the sandhills, 
when a loud knocking came at the door. I opened it in a hurry. 
There stood my friend Da^'idson. He explained to me the re- 
quest Mr. Williams had made the Sunday before, and said that 
he was on his w^ay to church, but found he had no money within 
reach, and requested me to lend him some. I explained that my 
partner was out -with the key of the safe, bnt added that what I 
drew from my pocket, some four or five dollars in small change, 
was at his service, but was, I feared, too small to be of any use to 
him. In the change, it so happened that there was, to us, the 
useless little coin of five cents. " Oh, my dear sir," said David- 
son, " this is quite sufficient," reaching out his hand as he spoke, 
and as I supposed for all the change I offered; but no, he placed 
his forefinger on the little stranger, the five cent piece, and 
walked off with it with a most satisfied expression of countenance. 
He evidently admired the size of the coin exceedingly for such 
an occasion. Late in the afternoon I lay stretched on the coun- 
ter, my head on some open blankets, for a rest, when again I 
"was aroused by a loud knocking on the store door. I unlocked 
it, and there stood my friend Davidson with his hand stretched 
out, and the identical little five cent piece between his forefinger 
and thumb. "I did not like the object, sir," said he; " no, I 
did not like the object; so I brought the money back." 

It was always said, in San Francisco, that that was the nearest 
Davidson ever, in his life, came to doing an act of charity that 
required the outlay of money. 

At this time Davidson lived in a room in the second story of a 
house on Clay street, owned by a Frenchman. His rent was 
paid one month in advance, in accordance with the universal cus- 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNU. 181 

torn in San Francisco at that time. The FrencLiman took it into 
his head to raise the building, so as to enable him to put a new 
story underneath. One day Davidson returned, after an excur- 
sion in the city, and to his surprise found the building on screws, 
and already far on its way up, to let the new part into its place. 
He, at once, in great indignation, applied to the Frenchman to 
return him his month's rent. But the Frenchman saw no diffi- 
culty in Mr. Davidson's getting to his room, for he said he would 
always furnish him with a ladder, with which he could mount to 
the fi-ont door while the building was undergoing the alteration. 
Da\idson grew furious, but could not think of sacrificing the ■ 
month's rent; so he remained, and climbed the Frenchman's 
ladder every day. He kept bachelor's hall and cooked for him- 
self. One day while engaged in mixing some flour, water and 
molasses, to make a sort of an impromptu sweetcake, ujoon which 
he mostly lived, down came, cracking, the whole building. 
Poor Davidson! After an hour or so he was dug out of the 
debris, all unhurt, but all smeared over with flour and molasses. 
The first thing he observed, on being dragged out, was the little 
Frenchman capering around him, crying out: 

" Oh, Monsieur Davidzon no dead; me one man very glad!" 
Davidson looked at him for a moment without speaking, his 
eyes twinkling out of the flour and molasses with a peculiarly 
savage ferocity; then he exclaimed: 

"You glad? Well, then, will you now pay me back my 
month's rent?" 

" Oh, Monsieur Davidzon, me no pay back one dollar. Me 
one great loss by one transaction here to-day. You one man 
very lucky, you no dead." 

Davidson always spoke of that Frenchman as one of the 
greatest ruffians on the Continent of America. 

Davidson had a great inclination to venture in small specula- 
tions. He had no head or confidence in himself in such matters, 
but he found an acquaintance, Mr. Henry Tooray, who was will- 
ing to put his brains against his (Davidson's) money, and divide 
net profits equally. In this way Davidson often made hand- 
somely in little ventures with Toomy. He had one advantage, 
however, over Toomy, for if they purchased any merchandise that 
required removal from one part of the city to another, Davidson 
always did this work himself with a wheelbarrow, after dark, 
and charged the co-partnership with the full price of the usual 



182 PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 

drayage, which was a very considerable item at that time in San 
Francisco. Besides, he often lent Toomy money at two per cent. 
per week, to be compounded every Saturday night; so that, on 
the whole, his connection with Toomy might be regarded as of a 
very advantageous character. 

It so happened that about this time Davidson fell in with a 
Doctor Somebody, who had been on a cruise among the South 
Pacific Islands. This man told Davidson that hogs could be got 
on those Islands for almost nothing. This aroused Davidson's 
cupidity to the highest, for at that time hogs commanded thirty 
cents a pound, live weight, in San Fi'ancisco. 

The Doctor proposed to Davidson to purchase a ship and go 
for a cargo of those hogs, offering to accompany him for a share 
of the profits. Davidson feared to venture so large an amount 
of money in one speculation, but, finding a merchant of the 
name of West who was willing to j)ut up half the money, the 
arrangement was made with the Doctor. On looking around for 
a suitable ship, they found what appeared to be a verj'- fine bark, 
called the America. She was for sale, and her deck was 
flush, just the sort of craft, the Doctor said, for the voyage in 
view. She was owned b}' two brothers; one was her captain, the 
other her first o£Qcer. They offered her at a very low price, 
twenty-five hundred dollars. They told Davidson the reason 
they wanted to sell her, and were willing to take so small an 
amount, was that they had had a personal difiiculty between 
themselves and wanted to part company, and to do so they 
must turn the ship into cash. Then the mate told Davidson 
privately that, if it was agreeable to him, he would like to retain 
one-third interest in the bark and go to sea in her, in the same 
230sition he had when his brother was captain. He cautioned 
Davidson not to let the brother know of this arrangement, or 
that he would not consent to let the bark go at so low a figure. 
Davidson fell into the trap set for him, and bought the bark. 
After the purchase he waited patiently for the mate to put in his 
appearance, but he waited in vain, for, on making inquiries, he 
found that the two brothers had no sooner sold the America 
than they purchased a fine, new ship for five thousand dollars, 
and had put to sea once more as captain and mate. The Doctor 
and Davidson pushed their preparations with energy for the voy- 
age. Under the Doctor's advice, they j^urchased a quantity of 
trashy, cheap goods, to trade to the natives of the Islands for 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFOKNLV. 183 

bogs; but Davidsou and the Doctor did not pull well together, 
and the more they saw of each other the more they disliked each 
other 

All went well, however, until one day Davidson detected a 
bottle of strychnine among the Doctor's private stores. David- 
son now became alarmed, and feared the Doctor had a plot on 
hand to poison him and take the ship, so he positively refused 
to let the Doctor go to sea with him. The result was that the 
Doctor and the captain that he had recommended were both 
sent adrift, and Davidson, shipping a captain of his own choos- 
ing, went in search of the hog islands alone. In less than three 
months the bark America returned with a cargo of oranges 
and one hundred and seventy-five hogs on the main deck. 

Davidson reported to Mr. West that whenever the least rough 
weather came the America leaked so badly that it was neces- 
sary to keep the pumps manned nearly all the time, to clear her 
of water; so, fearing to proceed, they had run into the island of 
Bora Bora. Here they found oranges, for which they traded the 
merchandise. There were hogs here also, but for these the na- 
tives demanded coin, and, though Davidson had fifteen hundred 
dollars in coin with him, he would not part with it. " For," said 
he, " that I could save in a boat, if the bark went down, but not 
so the hogs." The hogs he did get only cost him $175. 
These he sold to a lawyer named Ryan, somewhat famous 
as an Irish patriot of 1848. Ryan had made a calculation as to 
the immense profits of hog raising as the market then stood in 
California, which dwarfed anything he could hope to make at 
law, and having the portion of his fortune left after his sacri- 
fices in the cause of Ireland, unemployed, he invested seventeen 
hundred and fifty dollars of it in Davidson's hogs. 

The morning Ryan was to receive them from Davidson, two 
very large ones were so sick that they could not get on their feet. 
Captain Davidson feared Ryan would refuse to receive these 
two as merchantable, so he called his boy John to help him, and 
they tied the sick hogs' legs fast together. The bark lay out in 
the bay a few hundred yards from the wharf, to save wharfage, 
so Ryan had to take away his hogs in a boat. Just as Davidson 
had finished tying the legs of the invalids, Ryan came alongside 
and jumped on deck. 

" Good morning, friend Ryan; we have just commenced to 
tie up the hogs for you," was Davidson's polite salutation. 



184 PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 

"Oh, thank you, Captain," said Ryan; and, turning to his 
men, continued: " Now, lads, be lively at your work; slide these 
two big fellows the captain has tied up for us over into the boat 
first and foremost." 

The men did so, and a^lot more were tied up and shoved into 
the boat. On reaching the wharf with this load, Eyan was sur- 
prised to find that the two hogs Davidson had tied up were dead. 
Not knowing the man, a faint hope came to poor Ryan that if 
Davidson saw the hogs dead he would make some deduction; 
share the loss, perhaps, or something of that sort; so he ordered 
the dead hogs left in the boat, and returned to the bark. The 
moment Davidson saw w^hat had happened, he got into a perfect 
passion of virtuous indignation, exclaiming, as he stamped on 
the deck furiously : 

" Discharge every one of that crew, sir! Discharge every one 
of them, sir! Stupid rascals, to smother two of your finest 
animals! How could you have picked up such a crew, Mr. 
Ryan? See what a loss it has caused you." Then, drawing 
close to Ryan, he continued, in an undertone: "Mr. Ryan, 
what are we coming to ? If these men had received a proper 
religious education, this never would have happened." 

Ryan at once gave up all hope of Davidson's sharing any loss 
in the matter; so, heaving a sigh, he ordered the boatman to 
dump his two big beauties into the bay. Poor Ryan was Da- 
vidson's victim in another particular. The day he purchased 
the hogs from Davidson, they were counted out for him and paid 
for. There were just one hundred and seventy-five in all, but 
soon afterwards a sow gave birth to seven pigs. Five of them 
were remarkably fine little fellows, while the two others were the 
veriest little runts that ever disgusted a farmer. Now, the ques- 
tion was, Who did these pigs belong to ? After a short, earnest dis- 
cussion on this interesting point with his boy John, Captain David- 
son came to the conclusion that the pigs l^elonged to himself. 

" Yes, John," he concluded, " as you so intelligently remark, 
the pigs undoubtedly belong to me, for Mr. Ryan only had 
counted out to him one hundred and seventy-five head, and can, 
therefore, have no right to more than that number; yes, that is 
clear; but, John, we will not be ungenerous in this matter, -we 
will leave him those two small ones, for I always prefer to lean 
against mj'self when there is any sort of doubt, and that 
should be the rule of life with every honest man, John; don't 
forget that, my boy." 



PIONEEK TIMES IN CALFORNIA. 185 

The morning the delivery was to be made Davidson ordered 
John to stow away the five fat little pigs below decks; not to 
hide them from Ryan, he told John, but to prevent them being 
hurt in the rush of catching the large hogs. Ryan was surprised 
and mortified to find that one of his finest looking sows had such 
a miserable product, but Davidson consoled him by suggesting 
that it might be owing to the fact that the sow was not much of 
a sailor, and had been too long fed on yams. 

With the last load of hogs Davidson went on shore, but before 
leaving the bark he whispered to John to bring the little pigs up 
and let them loose on deck. John did so, and the consequence 
was, every one of them fell down the hatchway, and they all lay 
dead on the lower deck when Davidson returned. As he looked 
down the hatchway he seemed very sad and thoughtful; then, 
calling John, he said, in a solemn warning tone of voice: " Bo}', 
look down there. Let the fate of these pigs be a warning to you 
through all your future life, never to covet your neighbor's prop- 
erty. I now see that in justice these pigs belong to poor Eyan. 
Yes, John; the truth is, jjrovidentially, made plain to me when 
it is too late. Throw them overboard, boy. Throw them over, 
John, and say no more about it." 

To get rid of the oranges was now Davidson's great trouble. 
It so happened that six or seven other cargoes of oranges had 
arrived in port the same day with the bark America, so that 
there was a perfect glut of oranges in the market. Conspicuous, 
among these I recollect one that was owned by Colonel Gift and his 
son. Their vessel lay at " Long Wharf," at the foot of Commercial 
street. The Colonel's son had gone to sea with their craft, in- 
tent on another sort of return cargo altogether, but, like David- 
son, he was tempted to bring oranges. This mistake of the son 
was condemned by the father in that characteristic emphatic 
language that has made the Colonel so notorious in California. 
You could hear his voice a quarter of a mile off in comments on 
his son's unwise selection of a cargo, and as you drew near you 
found him walking excitedly up and down the wharf, using lan- 
guage original, and so peculiarly profane, that it attracted a 
large crowd of boys, who followed him with shouts of laughing 
applause. 

The fruit dealers, in the face of this glut in the market, de- 
clined to purchase any amount of oranges. In this dilemma a 
young lawyer, just arrived from New York, whose talents and 



186 PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 

ability in his profession have since made him one of our wealthiest 
citizens, came to the rescue, at Mr. West's solicitation. He got 
the leading fruit men into council, and persuaded them that "a 
corner " could be made on oranges. The thing looked possible, 
so a committee was appoijited to ascertain how many thousand 
oranges were sold daily in San Francisco, and at the same 
time to find out the amount of oranges in the hands of the im- 
j)orters. When this committee called on the bark America, 
and asked Davidson how many oranges he had sold within the 
last twenty-four hours, instead of answering them directly he 
turned to his boy John, and said: " John, we have sold ten 
thousand oranges to-day, more or less; have we not, John?" 
" Aye, aye, sir; ten thousand, more or less," was John's prompt 
answer. So the bark America was reported to have sold ten 
thousand oranges that day, when the fact was, she had not sold 
more than ten dozen, for almost as many bits, to boj^s visiting 
the bark. It is to be presumed that the committee got about as 
accurate information from all the other ships. The result was, 
that the fruit men combined, and offered all the ships nineteen 
dollars jDcr thousand for their oranges, which was gladly ac- 
cepted. The oranges had all to be picked over before delivering 
them, and this had to be done, per contract, within two weeks. 
All the ships but the bark America offered two dollars a day 
for hands to pick over the oranges. Davidson hunted up little 
boys, whom he hired ' ' to pick oranges " at fifteen dollars per 
month. 

The boys thought it only fun, but they were soon undeceived, 
for each two of the oranges were wrapped in leaves with sharp, 
thorny edges, and the consequence was, that the boys always 
gave up the job after two or three days' work, with their hands 
all sore and bleeding. If a boy had put in three days' work, 
Davidson insisted that it was only two days' work. If they 
worked four days he only called it three, and so on. When the 
boys demurred to this, he would demonstrate to them that he 
was right in this way of counting their time: " Now, boy, listen 
to me. You came on Monday and worked until Tuesday; that 
was one day. Then you worked until Wednesday, which is one 
day more, making two days in all, you see; which is just one- 
fifteenth of a month. So here is your nice, silver dollar. You 
are a good boy, and I hope you always go to Sunday school, for 
there is nothing like it, my boy; and be sure to always say your 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 187 

prayers before you go to bed. There, boy, go now. There is 
no use in your waiting for supper; it won't be ready for a long 
time. Good evening, boy, and recollect what I told you about 
your prayers." Some evenings every boy he had would throw 
up the job. Mr. West would then remonstrate with him, and 
tell him he would fail in having the oranges ready at the con- 
tract time fixed, but Davidson always succeeded in engaging 
another gang of boys at the same low wages, and the oranges 
were all picked over and ready for delivery on the day agreed 
upon; and the work of overhauling them did not cost one- 
fourth as much as it cost any of the other ships. Davidson^s 
next trouble was to get rid of the bark herself. At that time 
there was a man in San Francisco from Boston, of the name of 
Rickets, who made it his business to buy up old ships and put 
them to some use or other. He sometimes had several of this 
sort of ships on hand, and used to anchor them in the bay near 
each other, and the people called them " Rickets' lickety row." 
One day Davidson came to Mr. West's store in joyful excitement. 
As he entered, he exclaimed : 

"Well, sir; I thank Providence, I have sold the America to 
that terrible man, Rickets ! " 

" Yes ? " answered Mr. West. " How much did j-ou get?" 

" Just what I asked him, three thousand dollars. Oh, sir, 
that Rickets is a terrible man; an unsafe man, sir, in this 
community." 

" How is that. Captain ?" 

" Well, sir, when I tell you his way of proceeding, you will 
understand. This morning he came on board our ship, just as 
John and I had finished our morning's three hours' pumping. " 

" Pumping what?" interrupted Mr. West. " You don't mean 
to say. Captain, that the America leaks while lying at the 
wharf?" 

" Well, sir, now that she is sold I just as leave tell you that 
John and I had every morning to get up two hours before day, 
and put in three hours of hard work in pumping, and to do the 
same every evening, or I believe she would have gone down 
right at the wharf. Well, as I was saying. Rickets came on 
board, and, in his fussy way, exclaimed: ' Well, Captain, this is 
a fine looking bark you have hero, but West tells me she leaki 
some at sea. Does she leak here at the wharf. Captain ? How 
often have you pumxoed her since she has been clear of her 



188 PIONEEU TI.AIZS IN CALIFOENU. 

cargo ?' Of course I could not tell a lie, for if there is any 
thing on earth I despise it is a liar, so I turned to John, who, 
poor fellow, was lying on a coil of rope to get a little rest after 
his hard purajDing job, and said : ' John, how often have we 
pumped the America since we got into port ? Three or four 
times, more or less, have we not?' John is a smart boy, Mr. 
"West, and I have taught him the importance of that saving 
clause of mine, more or less, and how it enables a man to speak 
the truth and at the same time to keep his private business from 
exposure. Yes, sir, that saving clause I often find of great use 
to me. It was taught me by a very religious, good man, who 
had the same detestation of lies I have, and it has enabled me 
to turn many a sharp corner through life when dealing with un- 
observing people, and yet preserve my character for truth, which 
I value, sir, above all worldly goods. So John answered promptly : 
' Aye, aye, sir; three or four times, more or less.' So, Avithout fur- 
ther question, Rickets seized a marline spike, and, dashing down 
into the hold, he commenced jamming it into the bottom 
planks of the bark. At length he struck a plank where it 
went about through. Turning to me he said : ' There, Cap- 
tain, that plank is about gone.' I had not the heart to answer 
him, as I supposed all hope of a sale was over, and what was 
my surprise when he ran on: ' Now, Captain Davidson, get two 
or three old looking planks and spike them on over this rotten 
place with old rusty spikes; then scatter some dunnage over 
them in a careless sort of a way, and 1 will go and bring two 
Chinese merchants who want to buy a ship to send a lot of their 
countrymen home in, and if the ' America ' suits them I will 
take her off of your hands at your figures.' I was horrified at 
this want of principle in a man so lately from Boston, where the 
people are all said to be so religious, but it was not my business 
to criticise his conduct, so I just went and did as he told me, and 
when he came back with the Chinese merchants they never ob- 
served the work I had done to hide the rotten planks, so well 
had that unconscientious man planned it out. The Chinese mer- 
chants agreed to take the bark at four thousand dollars from 
Eickets, and, on the spot, paid him one hundred dollars to bind 
the bargain. I then went with him to his office, where he gave 
me a check for fifteen hundred dollars, on account of the sale 
to him of the bark, and the other half of the purchase money is 
to be paid before I transfer the title in the Custom House." 



tlONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 189 

" But, Captain Davidson, won't you feel badly if the Amor.'ca 
happens to go down, you know, with two or three hundred 
Chinamen on board ?" 

" Oh, I had nothing to do with the sale to the Chinamen; I 
sold to Kickets, and after he pays me the other fifteen hun- 
dred dollars I intend to be very plain with him, and let liim 
know what I think of his conduct in deceiving those poor China- 
men, and risking the lives of so many human beings in such a 
vessel as tlic America. I will tell him plainly that it is my opin- 
ion that if she undertakes a voyage to China, she will never reach 
there. This will leave the resi^onsibility entirely on the shoul- 
ders of this Boston man. Have you a Bible, Mr. West, you are 
not using ?" 

" What do you want of a Bible, Captain ?" 

" Oh, I thought if you had one to spare, for I cannot spare 
mine, I would present it to this Mr. Rickets, after he pays me 
the money, in hopes that it might arouse conscientious scruples, 
and prevent him from deliberately drowning a cargo of China- 
men, which is what he will do if he ever sends them to sea in that 
bark." 

This bark's after history was curious. Some one put the 
Chinamen on their guard, and they forfeited their $100 and left 
her on Rickets' hands. He painted her up handsomely, but no 
one proposed to purchase her for a long time. At this time 
there was a firm in the citj^ under the name of Osborne & Son. 
They were enterprising, nice men, and reported financially well 
off. One day a stranger loitered into their store oii some j^re- 
tence, and soon got into conversation with the senior member of 
the firm. The stranger was smart and intelligent, and won the 
confidence of the old man. He said he lived in Sacramento, but 
was just then on his way back from a trip down the coast. He 
said he had visited a place in Mexico where turkeys and poultry of 
all descriptions, then immensely high in San Francisco, could be 
purchased for almost nothing. He said he had three thousand 
dollars, and wanted to find a man with a like sum to join him in 
purchasing a ship and going for a cargo of poultry to this Mexi- 
can town. Osborne at once offered to join him, and in half an 
hour more they were on the lookout for a suitable vessel. Of 
course they fell in with the bark America. She was just the 
thing, so the Sacramento man declared; but on calling on her 
owner. Rickets, he at first positively refused to part with her, as 



190 nONEER TIMES IN C.VLIFORNIA. 

he had a voyage in view for her himself. Just as Osborne and 
his friend were leaving the office, Rickets called them hack, and 
said that he just remembered that to-morrow would be steamer 
day, and that he would be somewhat short of money, so that if 
they were ready to pay down the price of the bark, five thousand 
dollars, that afternoon, he would part with her, though regret- 
ting to be obliged to do so. Then the Sacramento man said 
that was impossible, as his money-was in Sacramento, and that 
it would take him three days to get it. Then Osborne asked 
Rickets if half the money would not do for to-morrow, and that 
if so he would pay his half that afternoon and give time for his 
friend to go to Sacramento for his share of the purchase money. 
After some apparent hesitation and reluctance, on the part of 
Rickets, it was so arranged. Osborne jDaid his half that after- 
noon, as agreed on, and then went with his friend to the Sacra- 
mento boat, where he took an affectionate farewell of him, and, 
of course, poor Osborne never saw that stranger again. The 
firm of Osborne & Son, now giving up the turkey business as a 
bad sell, advertised the bark America as being all fitted up as a 
passenger ship for China. They soon got two or three hundred 
Chinese passengers, and the bark, looking splendidly under her 
new paint, put to sea. After being out some three or four days 
she sprang such a terrible leak that the Chinamen rose in mutiny, 
and compelled the captain to return to port. The consequence 
was, lawsuits against Osborne & Son to enforce the return of 
the passage money. These suits were all decided against the 
firm, and in the end they parted with the bark America at some 
very low price to a South American merchant, who changed her 
name and put her under the Peruvian flag. 

Though it is contrary to our marine laws, as I understand 
them, to permit a ship that once leaves the protection of our flag 
to return to it again, yet it is certain that this famous bark 
America was, by some legerdemain, brought back under the 
United States flag; but what has become of her since I know not. 
If my recollection serves me right, Mr. Osborne himself told me 
that his connection with the bark America caused him a loss of 
ten thousand dollars. 

But now, perhaps, you want to know how Ryan's hog specu- 
lation resulted. Well, he gave the hogs on shares to a man 
residing in the sand hills. This man agreed to feed them and 
properly take care of them for half the increase. The fact is, 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 191 

that this contract between Ryan and this man is said to have 
been the most minutely and well guarded contract ever drawn in 
California in those days. Every possible contingency was thought 
of and provided for. What, then, was the astonishment of Ryan 
when, after about a month, the hog farmer called at his office 
one morning, and told him he was out of feed for the hogs, and 
had no money to obtain any, and urged upon Ryan the necessity 
of his advancing him a few hundred dollars to prevent the hogs 
from starving. 

" I will do nothing of the kind, sir," was the indignant reply. 

"Then the hogs will all die; for I tell you I have not got a 
thing for them to eat, nor money to buy it." 

Ryan drew himself up to his full military height, as he an- 
swered : 

" The contract provided for all that sir." 

" Oh, it does, does it? And the hogs, I suppose, are to live on 
the contract ?" 

"Yes, sir; that contract was drawn by no pettifogger; it pro- 
tects the hogs and guarantees them food, and effectually secures 
me success in my enterprise. Good morning, sir; read your 
contract carefully over, and you will see, sir, how plain it is in 
every particular." 

In two or three weeks after this interview some one told Ryan 
that most of his hogs were dead, and that the hog farmer had 
gone to the mines. Not at all put out, Ryan commenced an ac- 
tion at law against the farmer. 

His complaint is said to have been a curiosity in the law prac- 
tice of those days, not only for its length but for the variety of 
its contents, and the ingenious way the same thing was I'epeated 
over and over in different ways. No defendant appeared, so 
Ryan, to be fair about it, and not to be baulked in his desire to 
display the contract in Court, got some one to put in an answer. 
He then demanded a jury trial. To the jury he made a most 
eloquent appeal as to his rights under the contract, and was 
really pathetic when alluding to the fate of the hogs after their 
desertion by the farmer. 

The result was a verdict for the full amount of damage claimed 
in the complaint. An execution was duly issued, but the Sher-iff s 
return was, in effect, that no property was to be found, except a 
few hogsliins and a broken down brush fence. Ryan paid the 
costs with cheerfulness, and retired from the hog business for 
good and 'all. 



192 KONEEE TIMES IN CALIFORXIA. 

Now you will ask how the "corner on oranges" came out. 
Well, it cleaned out three of the entei-prising firms who had 
planned it, with the aid of the young lawyer, and all who 
touched it got more or less hurt. Every orange of Davidson's 
cargo was dumped into the bay, as were thousands and thousands 
more with them. 

After this, Davidson, having bought an interest in a rancho 
near Watsonville, went to that locality to live. From there he 
was often summoned to the county seat (Santa Cruz) for jury 
service. On those occasions he used to trap a ground squirrel, 
skin and roast it, put it in his pocket with a cold boiled potato, 
and walk off to Santa Cruz. He would satisfy himself for break- 
fast and lunch off of this private store; then in the evening he 
would take one meal at a hotel kept by Judge Rice, who was 
County Judge of Santa Cruz county at that time. The Judge 
was a large, fat man, of good hard common sense. His educa- 
tion had been slightly neglected in his youth, which often caused 
much amusement to the wags of that county bar, in which the 
Judge himself frequently joined with the utmost good humor. 

It was the Judge's practice, as soon as the Court adjourned, 
to walk home, take off his coat, and wait on the table of his hotel 
at meals. This, too, was a source of fun and amusement to his 
guests, who made it a point to keep the fat Judge on the con- 
stant run in waiting on them. It was all the time " Judge, more 
pork and beans." " Judge, this end of the table is out of spuds" 
(potatoes). *' Judge, is there no more ham and eggsV No? 
"What are your hens about?" "Judge, did this butter come 
aroiind Cape Horn ?" All this the Judge took in perfect good 
part, replying with genuine rough wit that kept the whole com- 
pany laughing. 

His position as waiter gave the Judge an insight into David- 
son's way of living, and he did not relish it by any means, for 
he observed that Davidson stowed away the -full three meals at 
one time, and yet the Judge got pay for but one. 

On one of these visits of Davidson's to Santa Cruz, the Judge 
stood this sort of thing patiently for three days; but on the third 
evening, when he was satisfied that Davidson had his full thi'ee 
meals stowed away, he was surprised by a loud call from his 
guest for another plate of ham and eggs. 

" Ah," muttered the Judge to himself, " by gosh, old Davidson 
is making a starter to put in one meal in advance for to-morrow. 



PIONEER TniES IX CALIFORNIA. 193 

I suppose his darned squirrel grub has given out; hut, by gosh, 
that is a little too much of a good thing. No, no; I will not 
put up with that, if this Court knows herself, and she thinks she 
do; I cannot stand it; no, I will just have a talk with the old 
chap." 

The result was a free conference with Captain Davidson after 
suj^per, which ended in the understanding that the Judge was 
to make no charge for the time Davidson had eaten at the hotel, 
provided he would change to Jimmy Skien's hotel, on the oppo- 
site side of the street, for the remaining days he was to be in 
attendance on the jury. It was said that this maneuver of Judge 
Rice was afterwards discovered by Jimmy Skien, and was the 
cause of a very serious misunderstanding between these two old 
friends. 

Poor Davidson! When the war of the rebellion broke out, he 
fled to England to avoid taxes. He returned after peace was 
established, and after some years died in St. Louis, leaving some 
$80,000, of which he bequeathed a small part to some near rela- 
tions, and the rest to the " Presbyterian Church of Ireland," 
which is all in litigation to this day. A book of amusing stories 
of this Calif ornian miser could be told, but my space compels 
me to drop him here. 

JUDGE WILLIAM BLACKBURN ON THE MOSAIC LAW. 

Judge "William Blackburn was the first American Alcalde of 
Santa Cruz. He was an old pioneer, I think, of 1847. He was 
very tall in person, and very dignified in his aspect. To look at 
him you could hardly fancy that he ever laughed, yet beneath 
this appearance of austere dignity lurked the most uncontrollable 
desire to create merriment and fun. He was sharp, and natu- 
rally wittj^ and had a keen sense of the ridiculous. His oppo- 
nents always feared him, for in controversy he was sure to give 
them some cut, when it was least expected, that would put them 
in the most ridiculous point of view, and, while doing this, not 
a smile would disturb his own absurd dignity. 

In the Summer of '49 a man was arrested for shaving all the 
hair o& of the tail of a very fine American horse, which a citizen 
had brought all the way from Kentucky to Santa Cruz. The 
culprit had done this to utilize the hair for making a riata. 
When brought before Alcalde Blackburn he confessed his guilt, 
18 



194 PIONEEE TIMES IN CALIFOENIA 

SO the Judge at once sentenced liim to be taken to the Plaza and 
there publicly shaved until not a hair was left upon his head. 
A young lawyer who had just arrived, and who thought this a 
good opportunity to bring himself into notice, volunteered to 
defend the prisoner, but, in consequence of the confession of 
guilt, his efforts were fruitless. However, on hearing the extra- 
ordinary sentence, he indignantly demanded of the Judge by 
what law he was authorized to pass so strange a sentence. 

•' Young man,'' said the Judge, with solemnity, "I see you 
are a newcomer, and I therefore excuse your ignorauce, and 
will answer 3'our question for this once. In this instance I go 
by the oldest law known to civilization; I go by the Mosaic law, 
a tooth for a tooth, an eye for an eye, you know, young man; 
and permit me to advise you to be more careful in the study of 
your Bible; there is nothing like it, young man." 

The sentence was literally carried out, to the great amusement 
of an assembled crowd. 

On another occasion his courtes}^ to the newcomers from the 
State of New York saved a man's life, in this way: A man in 
Santa Cruz borrowed a horse from an acquaintance to make a 
trip to Monterey. In that town he was offered a fine price for 
the horse, which he considered more than its value, so he ac- 
cepted the money, at the time intending to bring it to the owner 
of the horse. But that night he was induced to try his luck at 
cards, and lost every dollar; so, on his return to Santa Cruz, he 
had neither horse nor money to present to the owner. The 
owner was enraged, particularly as the horse was a favorite one. 
He had the defaulter arrested and brought before Alcalde Black- 
burn, accused of the crime of horse stealing; a jury was then 
impaneled, and the lawyers on both sides made long, brilliant 
speeches. The jury retired, and it was not long before they 
returned with a verdict of "guilty, as charged," and, besides, 
ordering the man to be hanged forthwith, for, in those days, the 
Alcalde juries always determined the punishment. On hearing 
the verdict the Judge quickly asked the foreman by what State 
laws they had been governed in this instance. 

" By the laws of Texas," was the reply. 

" Well," said the Judge, " that is all right enough, but you 
must all, genUemerr, observe that a number of New Yorkers 
have lately arrived in our State; now, I think, just as a matter of 
good-will to the, a, it is time their State laws should have some 



PIONEER TIMES IX aVLIFORNIA. 195 

show here in California; so please take your verdict under ad- 
visement again, and here is a volume of New York criminal law 
for you to look over, and try the prisoner in accordance with 
the laws you there find laid down, and see what the result will 
be." 

The jury seemed to think this courtesy to the State of New 
York a good idea, so they did as the Judge told them, and, 
after awhile, appeared with the verdict, " guilty of a breach of 
trust;" punishment — the jjrisoner to lie in jail until he should 
pay the owner of the horse the money he sold it for, together 
with all the costs of prosecution. 

THE JUDGE EXPOUNDS THE LAW OF MATEIMONY IN CALIFORNIA. 

In the Summer of 1849 the Judge took a trip to the mines 
with some friends. Then there was no steamer on the Sacra- 
mento, so the part}^ proceeded up the river in the usual way at 
that time, by schooner. When night came they generally drop- 
ped anchor in some quiet little turn out of the river, went on 
shore and built a large fire, in the smoke of which the3r defended 
themselves from the terrible swarms of mosquitos that threatened 
to take their last drop of blood. On one such occasion the 
Judge's party dropped anchor opposite an embryo little town, 
consisting of three or four shanties. As the Judge and jDarty 
entered the town they heard loud voices, as if in angry dispute, 
in a house near them. On going to ascertain the cause, they 
found all the inhabitants of the town, consisting, iDerhaj)s, of a 
dozen men and one woman, in great excitement. This house, it 
appeared, was the residence of the local Alcalde of the district. 
One of the men present, a tall, well-built Missouriau, had come, 
with this only lady of the neighborhood, and demanded of the 
Alcalde that he should forthwith unite them in the bonds of 
wedlock. This the Alcalde declined to do, which was the cause 
of the row. Judge Blackburn now drew himself up to his full 
height, and, in his usual dignified way, asked the Alcalde the 
reason of his extraordinary conduct in refusing so reasonable a 
demand. 

" Because," said the Alcalde, " this lady has a husband 
living." 

•' Y'es," said the Missourian; " she had a husband, but he 
abandoned her, and has not been heard of for such a long time 



196 PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 

that he must be dead. Anyway, I am willing to take the chances, 
and it is none of the Alcalde's business my doing so." 

The Santa Cruz Judge now bent his eyes keenly on the lady, 
and then turning to the Missourian, said : 

" How long, sir, is it since this lady's husband left her?" 

" It is nearly three months, and when he left he told her he 
would be back in a month; so, you see, he is dead to a cer- 
tainty." 

" Three months!" repeated the Judge, in a tone of astonish- 
ment, while his eyes were bent on the Alcalde. ' ' Did you hear, 
sir? Three months!" repeated the Judge. 

" I have heard," said the Alcalde, " but I will have nothing to 
do with this business." 

" Any man," said Judge Blackburn, " in California who has a 
wife, and so fine a looking wife as I see here before me, and who 
remains absent from her for three months, must be insane, Mr. 
Alcalde, or dead; and iu either case the lady is free to marry 
again. I am Alcalde of Santa Cruz, and will, with great 
pleasure, perform the required ceremony to make you two man 
and wife. Step forward, madam, step forward, and don't be 
bashful; have confidence, madam; I feel sure you will get 
through this trying occasion without fainting, if you make the 
effort and do not give way to your natural shyness. Step for- 
ward, my dear sir, by the side of your blushing bride, and I 
will make you a happy man." 

The ceremony over, the Judge turned to the obstinate Alcalde 
and said, with a patronizing sort of an air: 

" You are a newcomer, my dear sir, in California, and are, 
therefore, excusable for the extraordinary position you took on 
this occasion. When you are longer among us you will under- 
stand ' our ways,' and make no such grave mistakes as you did 
this evening, which came very near destroying the happiness of 
two innocent, loving hearts." 

Then came a man with a fiddle, andall was soon uproarious fun 
until a late hour that night, in which the Santa Cruz Alcalde 
appeared perfectly at home, and the happie&t of the happy. 

After the organization of the State under the first Constitution, 
a lawyer of the name of Pur Lee was appointed County Judge 
of Santa Cruz County, and a man of the name of Peter Tracy 
was elected County Clerk. The Judge was an American and 
the Clerk was Irish by birth. When sober, they were both refined 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFOENIA. 197 

gentlemen in aj)pearance and manners; but, unfortunately, tbey 
were equally opposed to long spells of sobriety, wbich was often 
the cause of the most ridiculous scenes in the Judge's Court. 
Soon after Pur Lee went on the bench in Santa Cruz, there came 
to the county, to try his luck in the practice of the law, a Mr. 
S., a finely educated young lawyer, who is now well known 
among us as one of our most wealthy citizens. He was of fine 
appearance and pleasing manners, so he was not long left brief- 
less. The very first case given in his charge was an important 
one, and involved a considerable amount. It was to be tried 
before Judge Pur Lee. S. prepared it with great care, and as it 
was a jury case, he thought over the speech he was to make on 
the occasion. In fact, he rehearsed it in a lonesome spot on the 
seashore, like the orator of old, where, amid the sullen thunder 
of the dashing wild waves of the Pacific, he gave his voice full 
vent. The trial day came; the case was an interesting one, and 
the courtroom was well filled with spectators. The evidence was 
all taken, and looked favorable to our friend S.'s side. 

He arose to sum up; and, after reviewing the testimony, dashed 
right into his seaside speech. All now appeared to be in wild 
excitement in the courtroom, to his imagination. His memory 
did not fail him, and he had just entered on the Fourth of July 
part of his speech, which he considered most beautiful, and was 
away up among the stars in the azure firmament, when, to his 
consternation, the Judge interrupted him with: 

'•' Mr. S., I have an authority here which I would like to con- 
sult before we proceed further, as to that last statement you 
made to the jury." 

S. is almost thrown into despair at this unexpected blow from 
his honor, the Judge; but, wiping the perspiration from his fore- 
head, he stammered out: 

"Well, your honor, what is the authority you wish to look 
at?" 

The Judge quietly looks down from his bench upon Tracy, 
the Clerk, who was seated at his desk, before him, saying in the 
coolest way : 

" Peter, hand out that authority." 

Peter, equally unmoved, without answering, draws from under 
his desk a well filled demijohn, three or four glasses and a 
jjitcher of water, placing them all on the bench before the 
Judge. The Judge then, while deliberately helping himself to a 
■well filled glass, says: 



198 PIONEEK TIMES IN CALIFOllNIA. 

" Come, Mr. S., I know you must be dry, and you have over- 
excited that jury, so they had better come too. And Mr. Crane, 
your o^jponent, had better come also; for I see plainly that he 
has lost this case and needs a little consolation." 

In astonishment, up walks S., in company with the jury, offi- 
cials, lawyers and all, to enjoy the refreshment of the demijohn. 

After a second round of drinks the Judge exclaimed, address- 
ing the jury: 

" I believe, boys, you are going to give this case to S." 

To this the jury all assented; so the Judge, turning to George 
Crane, continued: 

" That being the case, George, there is no use in ]pressing the 
matter further; it would only be a loss of time, and, besides, 
I see it is dinner hour." 

Then, turning to S., he said: 

" You can just reserve the rest of that speech for your next 
case; I see you have it well committed, and are not likely to for- 
get it. It will do for almost any occasion, you know, and I 
thought it a pity to let you throw it away on a case already 
won." 

This created merriment at S's expense, which he quieted by 
taking Frank Alzina's hint. Frank was the Sheriff, and in so- 
cial tastes was something of the same sort with the Judge and 
the Clerk. The hint he gave to S. was that as soon as they reached 
the hotel for dinner, " a basket of champagne would be in 
order." 

S'"s friends in Santa Cruz county, when telling this story, al- 
ways add that S. did in fact utilize that broken-off speech after- 
wards, on the occasion of his being elected Speaker of the 
California House of Assembly, two years later. 

Be this as it may, it is certain that to this day the usual way 
of asking a friend to drink in Santa Cruz is, '■' let us consult an 
authority." 

L. S. , now a wealthy merchant of Santa Cruz, told me, among 
many good anecdotes of early times, one which will serve to ex- 
plain what sort of ministers of religion the authors of the 
"Annals of San Francisco" saw in gambling dens, as they rep- 
resented they did, in '49, '50 and '51. 

Mr. L. S., the merchant I allude to, said: 

' ' I was brought up as a machinist in my native State of 
Maine, and worked at it while there, and in the city of Boston. 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALHORNIA. 199 

On the breaking out of the California excitement, I came to the 
Siale, and stopped first in the southern mines, where I worked 
in the phxcer diggings, with indifferent success. Finding that 
sixteen dollars was paid freely for shoeing a horse, I thought I 
would try my hand at that business, though I never had shod a 
horse in my life. I sent to Stockton for a blacksmith's outfit, 
and, on its arrival, opened my shop, and did first rate in the 
way of making money. About this time the first preacher that 
ever was seen in that part of the State made his appearance . 
He commenced to preach and hold prayer meetings at the dif- 
ferent mining camps within a range of ten or fifteen miles. At 
first his meetings were well attended. Some went for a good 
motive, some for a bad motive, and many without any particular 
motive. I went, too, at first, but I never fancied the man, and, 
after awhile, rather avoided him altogether. There was a cant- 
ing, hypocritical way about him that made me suspect his sin- 
cerity. He came to my shop, however, and had his horse shod all 
round. When I had finished the shoeing I stood looking at the 
minister as though I expected the " ounce " I had just earned, 
but instead of handing me the dust, he said: 

" I suppose, young man, you are willing to charge this job as 
done for the Lord.'' 

" Not much," said I. " When I want to send money to the 
Lord I will choose my own messenger." 

He then begged off for the present, promising to pay when he 
got in funds; so I agreed to trust. He soon afterwards, I found, 
traded off the hors,e I had shod for one without shoes. The 
new horse he brought to me to shoe, and again begged off for 
want of funds. This, I found, was a sort of a game of his, for 
it occurred the third time. The last time be assured me that 
after the next Sabbath meeting he would pay me out of his col- 
lections of that day. So, for the third time, I trusted him. 
Monday morning came, but no Mr. Preacher to pay his bill. 
On mentioning the matter to one of my customers, he told me 
that Mr. Preacher had preached his farewell sermon, and had 
taken up quite a large collection, and was to start for the North- 
ern mines that day. The road by which I knew he must leave 
our neighborhood was not far from my shop; so I started for it, 
and taking my seat on a large rock I waited for his appearance. 
I was not long there when the preacher came, leading a pack- 
mule with all his traps. 



200 PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 

I had a revolver in my belt, as was the universal custom at 
that time, but I did not take it in my hand, or make any motion 
to do so. I saluted the preacher politely, saying I had come for 
my bill, as I had heard that he was leaving " the diggings." 

He began to make excuses, and, with a whine, to talk of the 
Lord. 

"Come, come," said I; " you will find I mean business, this 
time. So out with the $48 you owe me ; and to be candid with 
you, preacher, I will tell j^ou plainly that I consider you nothing 
more nor less than a hypocritical knave." 

" You mean what you say, S., do you?" 

" You will find out if you do not hand out my money." 

" Then there is nothing left but to pay you, I suppose." 

" I see no way you can escape," said I. "So you had better 
act the part of an honest man and pay your debts." 

He handed out the money, and, as he did so, said with a good 
humored smile: 

" I see, Mr. S., that you will do to travel. Good morning." 

In about four months after this interview with the preacher I 
got a good opportunity of selling out my business, which I took 
advantage of, as I wished to visit San Francisco and see what I 
could do to make money in a more agreeable way. 

The second day after my arrival in the city, I was surprised, 
while sauntering around, to meet my friend, the preacher. He 
was most cordial in his recognition, and I observed that he had 
lost all traces of the long-faced, canting exhorter. 

" What church do you preach in now?" I asked. 

" Preach!" said he, " I have given up all that d — d humbug. 
It did not pay worth a cent. How much money have you 

got, s. r 

I was not much disposed to let him into my affairs, but I 
answered : 

" A thousand dollars, or so." 

"Well," said he, "I have a thousand, or so, more; and that 
will be plenty to let us open a monte bank. It will pay like 
smoke." 

I pretended to acquiesce, and drew him out on the whole plan 
of operations, which I found out was a well concocted plan of 
villainous swindling, from beginning to end. I excused myself, 
just then, on the plea of an engagement for that hour, but agreed 
to meet him in front of the Parker House at the same hour next 
day. 



PIONEER TIMES IX CALIFORNIA. 201 

The next day I took a look from the uj)per side of the Plaza, 
and there I saw my ex-j^reacher walking- backwards and forwards 
in front of the Parker House, evidently waiting for the interview 
with me, and there I left him; and that day I started for Santa 
Cruz county, where I have lived ever since. 



EUGENE OF GREENHORN, OR THE IMPARTUL JURY. 

On Greenhorn Mountain, in my county (Kern), years ago, 
there lived a little Frenchman, known to every one as "Eugene," 
and I think he lives there to this day. He was a miner and a 
merchant both. He kept a store, well supplied with miners' 
goods, and in the rainy season worked himself in the placer 
claims that were, in places, often very rich on Greenhorn. On 
one occasion he had collected twenty-nine hundred dollars' 
worth of dust, and, thinking himself unobserved, he dejDosited 
it in the bottom of an old abandoned shaft, which was a favorite 
hiding place of his for spare cash. 

This time, however, two travelers, who lay in the shade of 
some scrub oaks near by, saw him descend into the old shaft. He 
was no sooner out of sight, after coming out, than they were in 
the shaft to prospect. They found the treasure, and made off 
with it. It so happened that Eugene returned to the shaft again 
that very day, to make another deposit, and discovered his loss. 
He at once made for the Constable of the district, " Scotty 
George." He told Scotty that if he recovered the dust he would 
give him half of it as a reward. This was a good offer, so Scotty 
went to work, and soon got traces of the traveling thieves. He 
took a couple of determined men with him, and overhauled the 
robbers at White River, at the foot of the mountain, and cap- 
tured the sack of dust, yet unopened. But he found there three 
men, apparently concerned together in the robbery. So Scotty 
marched all the men back to Greenhorn . 

At this time, there was a man of the name of John Hudnut 
acting as Justice of the Peace in that district. Before him Scotty 
took his three prisoners. Hudnut at once impaneled a jury to 
try them for robbery, assuming to himself the power of Grand 
Jury, County Court, and all. When the jury was sworn in, two 
smart fellows were got to act as lawyers — one for each side. 
I recollect that one of them was a man of the name of Fergeson, 



202 PIONEEB TIMES IN CALIFOKNIA. 

who was then running- what the miners call a " one-mule" mine, 
which was very rich, though small, as its designation indicates, 
and which he named " Nellie Dent," in remembrance, as he said, 
of his old sweetheart, who was a sister of Mrs. General Grant. 
Be this as it may, Ferg;eson defended the prisoners with success. 
One of the prisoners proved, to the satisfaction of the jury, that 
he never in his life was on Greenhorn Mountain until brought 
there hy Scotty George that day; so that let him out. The other 
two men acknowledged the fact of having taken the gold from 
the shaft, but set up the defence that they supposed it lost 
treasure, and that their right to it as finders was perfect. 

The jury, after hearing an eloquent speech from each of the 
lawyers, and a pointed charge from the Judge, gave their ver- 
dict, or decision. It was to this effect : Scotty George was first 
to take half of the recovered gold, in accordance with his con- 
tract made with Eugene, and then the remaining twelve hundred 
and fifty dollars was to be equally divided between Eugene, the 
Justice, the two thieves, the members of tfie jury, and the two 
lawyers — share and share alike. 

On hearing this verdict, Eugene began to dance around, wiping 
the tears from his eyes, while he swore every French oath he 
had ever heard in his native country, supposed to give relief on 
such an occasion as this. 

There was one other man also dissatisfied; the man wrong- 
fully arrested. He made a great outcry about being left out in 
the cold, as he said, as they had not awarded him a dollar. 

Justice Hudnut, with apparent astonishment, remonstrated 
with this unreasonable man. Ho said: 

"Young man, what are you blowing about? Did you not 
prove to the full satisfaction of the jury that you were entirely 
innocent of any part in this nefarious transaction I have just 
been taking cognizance of? How could you, then, expect that 
the jury would give you a share of the gold dust ?" 

The outsider now saw his mistake, and that he should have 
pleaded guilty ; but it was too late. Scotty George thought his 
friend Eugene did come out of the business rather badly, so he 
gave him four hundred dollars out of his own share, and he also 
gave fifty dollars to the innocent man. So all were now happy 
except poor Eugene, who never ceased to mourn his loss. This 
celebrated case is often told over in Visalia, where all the parties 
were well known, and is, in all respects, literally true. The re- 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 203 

nowned justice, John Hudnut, iu later years, left the State for 
his old home in New Jersey; but his brother Joe, who first re- 
ported the facts of the case tome, is yet, I believe, wandering on 
Greenhorn or Chelsey mountains, near Havilah, in search of his 
fortune. 

DAN MTIRPHY DISPERSES HIS SQUATTERS. 

Mr. Daniel Murphy owned a large and valuable tract of land 
in the southern part of Santa Clara county. In old squatter 
times this sjolendid property did not escape from the wild squat- 
ting fever that ran thi-ough the whole country, while the titles to 
Spanish grants were yet unconfirmed by our government. Dan 
took no notice of his squatters, never even ordering them away. 
This was a difi'erent sort of policy from that pursued by most 
of the other land-holders, and the squatters hardly knew what to 
make of it. At length they grew very uneasy, and finally con- 
cluded to consult a lawyer, of the name of Green, who was a 
sort of a public nuisance at that time, pretending to great learn- 
ing in all the laws that related to Spanish grants. This fellow 
secured a good round fee from the squatters, and undertook the 
investigation of Murphy's title to his ranch. In due time a 
meeting was called, to hear Green's report, at a large house built 
by a squatter, about where the " Eighteen-Mile House " was af- 
terwards built, on the San Jose road. Just as the meeting was 
called to order, with Doctor Lively in the chair, some one spied 
Murphy himself riding leisurely along the road toward San Jose. 
A proposition was made to call him in, that he might hear 
Green's report and defend his title, if he could do so. Without 
hesitation, Dan accepted the invitation. Green read his report, 
and explained it all first rate. It completely demolished Mur- 
phy's title to the ranch, and even hinted that Murphy was a 
trespasser in removing or taking away any of the cattle. The 
cattle, it was said, belonged to the ranch, and the ranch belonged, 
beyond all doubt, to the settlers who had staked out their 
claims on it. 

As soon as Green took his seat, the chairman of the meeting 
requested Mr. Murphy to say what he wished in defence. But 
Mr. Murphy, in the most condescending and polite way, re- 
quested other gentlemen to give their views. So, one after an- 
other, all the smart talkers relieved themselves of their thoughts. 



204 PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 

and, of course, were fully convinced that Mr. Green's views were 
entirely right, and that they not only had found " Congress 
land," but " Congress cattle " as well. To each talker Dan 
listened with the utmost attention, always when a speaker took 
his seat calling for another gentleman to give his sentiments. 
In this way he succeeded in keeping some squatter talking until 
night Avas closing in. When all had spoken there was a general 
call for Murphj'. He then arose and said: 

" Boys, I have not a word to say, but that I have seldom or 
ever spent so pleasant an afternoon as I have to-day, listening to 
so many fine talkers, and I think the least I can do on this oc- 
casion is to treat the crowd. In fact, I think it is my treat, so I 
invite all hands to come into Doc, Lively's saloon, where we will 
have a good, old-time hot-whisky punch, for it is now late and 
getting cold." 

The squatters were surprised and evidently put out at this way 
of taking Green's attack on his title, but in the prospect of a 
free drink they soon lost sight of everything else. So they ac- 
cepted the invitation and drank freely, and parted with Murphy 
in the best of humor. As Dan threw himself into his saddle, he 
said : 

'• Above all things, boys, take care of that enterprising young 
lawyer, Mr. Green; he is certainly a starter for a Chief Justice, 
or something of that sort." 

In a moment more Dan was out of sight, and the only dark, 
dissatisfied man he left behind him was the embryo Chief Jus- 
tice, Green. 

In one month after this meeting Murphy had not a squatter 
on his ranch. 

In Tulare county, a little north of where I then resided, 
some years ago, there was a grand old-time rodeo. Ten thou- 
sand cattle were said to be on the ground. All the great cattle 
kings of Southern California were there; Lux & Miller, Dan 
Murphy, Fowler, Dunphy «& Hildreth, O'Connor and many oth- 
ers. Of course there were vaqueros without number, marking, 
branding and selecting out fat cattle for the market. Soon 
there arose a great row among the vaqueros. Then came the 
news that one of Murphy's vaqueros had drawn his six-shooter, 
and had dangerously wounded some other vaquero. The wound- 
ed man went to the nearest Justice of the Peace, and had a war- 
rant issued for the arrest of the belligerent vaquero. There was 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 205 

no lawyer at hand, so Dan Murphy volunteered to defend the 
prisoner himself. All the kings of the cattle at once assembled, 
evidently anticipating some fun in the scene of Murjphy's acting 
the lawyer. 

The District Attorney happened to be near at hand, and there- 
fore appeared for the prosecution. To the astonishment of that 
worthy official, after he had done up his side of the case, tbe 
first witness called by the defendant's attorney was an Irishman 
just arrived from Ireland, who candidly declared himself en- 
tirely ignorant of the whole matter, not even having been on the 
rodeo ground when the fray occurred. 

" That makes no difference, my friend," said Dan, " You 
know, undoubtedly, just what I want to show to this honorable 
Court. I want you to describe to this honorable Court, to the best 
of your knowledge and belief, what a shillalah is, and for what 
purpose it is mostly used in Ireland." 

The District Attorney here objected, and said that this had noth- 
ing whatever to do with the case. The Justice said that he thought 
it better to let Mr. Murphy develop his theory of the defence of the 
prisoner in his own way, as the Court wanted " justice, yes, vig- 
orous justice, dealt out on this occasion," and he wanted all the 
light possible thrown on the case. "There was often," he con- 
tinued, "great dissatisfaction found with the practice of the 
higher Courts, in excluding all testimony that could not be un- 
derstood as bearing on the case before them." This was a grave 
error, that should never be made in his Court, he hoped. 

Then, with his eyes fixed on the District Attorney, with a re- 
proving expression, he concluded, " The objection is overruled; 
Mr. Murphy will proceed." 

Dan now showed, by this son of the Emerald Isle, what a shil- 
lalah was, and that it was used by powerful men at fairs and 
other public assemblies in Ireland, as a conservator of the peace. 

" Then, my friend, from your knowledge of the shillalah, you 
consider it a peace-maker." 

" Why then, indeed, Mr. Murphy, it makes peace very often, 
as well as sometimes pieces of a fellow's head." 

" Yes, yes," interrupted Dan. " Then you consider a shillalah 
a peace-maker ?" 

" Faith, it is sir; when it is a smart boy that handles it." 

"Yes, that is just what I wanted to prove, your Honor, by 
this witness; that in Ireland a shillalah is viewed by everyone as 



206 PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 

a peace-maker. District Attorney, you can take the witness. " 

" He can go to the Devil; I have nothing to ask him." 

The Justice at once arose to his feet, and, looking at the Dis- 
trict Attorney, said in a voice of injured dignity: " Mr. District 
Attorney, I allow no indecorous language in this Court, sir, and 
if you indulge again in such expressions during the examination 
of this important case, I will have to vindicate the dignity of this 
Court, and fine you, sir. " 

Then, as he wiped his face with his handkerchief to allay his 
excited feelings, he took his seat, and continued: " Proceed, Mr. 
Murphy." 

Dan then called an old resident of Tulare county, and after he 
•was sworn addressed him thus : 

" Mr. Hawkins, you have heard all our friend from Ireland 
has so clearly testified to, as to the shillalah. Please state to the 
Court if you know of any weapon used in this county in a simi- 
lar way, and if so, Mr. Hawkins, say what that weapon is." 

" Well, I do; and it is a six-shooter, or revolver, as it is usu- 
ally called." 

" Just so. Now, Mr. Hawkins, please say to this Honorable 
Court if you have ever witnessed cases, with your own eyes, 
when this Tulare ' peace-maker ' did in fact make peace ?" 

"Yes, v\'hen in good hands, it often makes peace; as it did to- 
day on the rodeo grounds, in the hands of that prisoner." 

"District Attorney, you can take the witness." 

" I don't want him; he can go where I told the Irishman to 

go-" 

The Justice looked very hard at the j)rosecuting officer, but 

said nothing, seeming to think his language just within bounds. 

Dan then announced that he rested his ease. 

The Justice asked the District Attorney if he would sum up 
his side, but that officer declined, muttering something, in a low 
voice, about justice and a d — d farce. 

" What do you say, sir ?" said the Justice, in a voice of loud 
indignation. " What is it you are pleased to call a d — d 
farce ?" 

" What I said was not intended to be heard by the Court." 

" Oh, well, Mr. Attorney, I take your apology; I know you 
could not so far forget yourself as to apply such language to this 
Court." 

Then, turning to Murphy, he said: 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNU. 207 

"Please, Mr. Murphy, sum up, and close this case." 

Dan, it is said, fairly outdid himself in witty argument in de- 
fense of the prisoner, suitable to the testimony he had intro- 
duced. When he closed, the Justice rendered a short oral 
opinion, closing thus: 

' ' In my whole official career, I must say, I never recollect a 
case coming before me that was so well and ably handled in the 
defense as this case to-day; nor can I recollect a case so impor- 
tant in its character; so pregnant of results. My friends, this 
case will, in the future, be cited by the most eminent jurists in 
the higher courts of the State, as a precedent not to be disre- 
garded. Mr. Murjihy, allow me to congratulate you, sir, on the 
ability you have to-day displayed. Your research into Irish au- 
thorities was entirely in jDlace, fully as much so as the constant 
citation of English authorities our bar is so prone to. In your 
case nothing but an Irish authority would have answered, and, I 
must say, it was exactly in point, and has enabled the Court to 
come to a prompt decision in this intricate case. Your name, 
sir, will live as long as Tulare county has a ' peace-maker ' left. 
The prisoner is discharged from custody, and this Court stands 
adjourned." 

Soon afterwards the District Attorney took this case before 
the Grand Jury in Visalia, and sought to get the fighting vaquero 
indicted, and also the Justice of the Peace before whom he was 
examined, but Dan Murphy was called before the jury, and af- 
ter hearing his statement they ignored both bills. That evening 
the jurymen were Dan's guests at an extra good dinner, where, 
it is said, even the wounded man and the District Attorney gave 
in, and joined heartily in all the fun of the entertainment. 



HOW DAN MUKPHY WAS SOLD. 

Long ago, I think in the winter of 1852, Dan Murphy sold a 
band of fat cattle in San Jose, where he lived at the time. He 
was paid in gold coin, some fifteen thousand dollars. This he 
put in his valise, all ready for an early start for San Francisco 
the next morning. 

These were the days of stage coaches, and stage coaches only, 
as a means of travel in California. So an hour before daylight, 
and a cold, disagreeable Winter's morning it was, the stage rolled 



208 PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 

up to Murphy's dwelling-house, and Cole, the famous driver of 
those days, sang out lustily for his expected passenger. More 
asleep than awake, Dan ajDpeared at his door with valise in hand; 
the valise he pushed under one of the seats of the stage, cover- 
ing it with some straw, that was jDut in the stage to keep the feet 
warm, and then he leaped on the driver's box alongside of his 
friend Cole. In a moment more the}^ whirled back to Beaty's 
for the hotel passengers. 

It so happened that a miner, who had been prospecting for 
gold in the Southern California mountains, slept at Beaty's that 
night, and was going in the morning to San Francisco. As 
he appeared to take his seat in the stage, he held a valise, 
the exact match of Muri^hy's, though this Dan did not observe. 
It was weighty, also, and the owner, who was wraj^ped in a 
miner's blanket, seemed very careful of it. He, too, stowed 
awaj' this valise under the same seat with Murphy's, and threw 
himself into a snug corner, to doze and dream of quartz ledges 
that would yield five hundred dollars to the ton. The roads were 
terribly bad that day, and Cole did not reach the old stand on 
the Plaza in San Francisco until an hour after dark. The in- 
stant he drew up his horses, Dan leaped from the box, pulled 
the coach door open and reached in, grasping his valise, as he 
supposed, and walked oft' with it. The miner did the same. 
Dan, on reaching his hotel, handed his valise to the hotel-keeper 
unopened, intimating its contents. The next morning he shaved 
up, and, putting himself in a presentable shape, called for his 
valise, and departed for the bank of Page, Bacon & Co. After 
shaking hands with the bank people and having a little chat, and 
the usual lively joke, Dan applied his key to the lock of the 
valise. It fitted exactly. But, lo! what did Dan find in the 
valise? Not his gold, but instead of it a quantity of quartz, 
sparkling with the precious metal, as if to make fun of him! 
In astonishment he grasps at the remaining contents of the 
valise, but wliat again does he find ? Four soiled shirts; nothing 
more! Dan enjoys a joke, but this was a little too much for 
even him; and it is whispered that the exj)ressions which now 
escaped his lips would be indecorous if used in the neighborhood 
of a church, or even in a lady's parlor. What was to be done ? 
The banker suggested an immeduite visit to the Chief of Police. 
Dan took the hint, and leaving valise, quartz, soiled shirts, and 
all, scattered on the floor of the bank, he dashed off with his hat 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 



20§ 



in his hand, instead of being in its joroper place, on his head, 
through Montgomery street and up Merchant street to the City 
Hall, and to the Chief's office. 

The protector of the lives and property of the people of San 
Francisco heard his story all through; but instead of showing 
any sympathy or being proi^erly aroused into indignation, a 
smile showed itself on his face. 

"No joke," exclaimed Murphy. " Chief, I like a joke as well 
as any man in California; every one knows that; but this is no 
joke. Fifteen thousand dollars is a little too much^to pay for a 
joke on one morning, even if it is California! No, it is no joke, 
and I will not, Mr. Chief, put up with it as a joke." 

The Chief, without answering, took up a coj)y of the Alia Cali- 
fornia, of that morning, and pointing to an advertisement, said: 

" Read that, Mr. Murphy." 

I>an could not see what an advertisement had to do with hia 
loss, but he did as he was told, and read the following adver- 
tisement, which was headed — 

"KOBBEEY MOST VILE. 

" If the wretch who stole my valise from the San Jose coach, last evening, 
which contained valuable specimens of quartz rock, and four dirty shirts, 
will return the quartz, which can be of no use to him, he can keep the shirts 
if he needs them; and besides I will give him two dollars to get a good square 
meal with. I can be found at the wholesale grocery store, No. 105 Sansome 
street, from ten o'clock to one in the afternoon. The meeting will be strictly 
private, all on honor, and no questions to be asked." 

Now Dan's whole countenance changed. He shook all over 
with a low, suppressed laugh, while he exclaimed: 

"That fellow has got me, sure. I am in for it — sujDiDers, 
champagne, theater and all. Yes, as sure as there is a grizzly 
in CaHlornia. Yes, the fellow will take advantage of me, and 
have a crowd there to receive me large enough to fill a whole 
theater. But there is no help for it; I must face the music, for 
he has me sure." 

iSo Dan returned to the bank, gathered up the quartz, shirts 
and all, i:)ut them into the valise, locked it carefully, and, with 
the look of a martyr, while fun, however, twinkled in his eye, 
marched oif boldly to 105 Sansome street, muttering to himself, 
as he walked and turned his head from side to side in an uneasy 



2lO PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 

■wajj "Yes, strictly private; I know what that means. He in- 
tends to have half the town there. No questions to be asked; I 
know what that means. I am not to be allowed to ask any ques- 
tions about my money untiil I have paid d — d well for it. Oh, 
yes, he has got me. The miner is master of the situation, and 
I have only to face the music, that is all." 

He was not mistaken. The miner had him, sure- enough! A 
crowd of choice fellows were there to receive him. 

Dan, unfortunately, asked a question about his valise. This, 
it was declared, nullified the promises given in the advertisement. 
So Dan was arrested forthwith, tried in the back room of the 
store, by a jury taken from the crowd found in waiting, and, 
of course, found guilt}- of stealing the quartz and four dirty 
shirts, and fined the suppers, champagne and theater tickets, just 
as he had foreseen. 

Dan Murphy always declared that it cost him over three hun- 
dred dollars to pay that fine, and " put the crowd through all 
right." But it is quite certain that no one enjoyed the sj)ending 
of that money, or the fun of that afternoon, more than did Dan 
Murphy himself. 



ELLEN HARVEY; 

OR, 

THE WIFE'S DISAPPOINTMENT 



CHAPTER I. 



ON BOARD OF THE STEAMER. 



In a late Summer month of 1850 came steaming through the 
Golden Gate one of the Pacific Mail Company's fine ships, al- 
ways so welcome to us Californians, as they brought us news of 
our old homes, and of friends dearly loved, with whom we had 
so lately parted. It was one of our finest days, which are not 
surpassed by those of any land or clime on earth. The sun shone 
out beautifully, and the bay was smooth and calm. The luxur- 
iant grass and wild flowers that covered the hills to the north in 
the Spring, were not there ; yet, those grand old mountains 
looked imposing and beautiful in the distance, while even the 
broken sand hills, on which stood all of San Francisco that was 
then in existence, looked cheerful and bright. 

It was about ten o'clock in the morning; the steamer deck was 
crowded with passengers — men, women and children. There 
were twenty men to one woman or child. To look at, they were 
a fine body of people; healthy, young and vigorous. As you 
looked you could not help feeling that they were just the sort for 
a new State. Easy self-reliance and bold, persevering courage 
shone out in all their movements, and in every expression of 
word or look you drew from them; while at the same time, anx- 
ious thoughts, hope, pleasure and a sort of sadness too, were 
plainly discernible. Such expressions as, " How beautiful those 
hills to the north look in the distance !" " What a magnificent 
bay!" " So this is San Francisco," you could hear on every side. 

The gentlemanly captain, released of his charge by the pilot, 
was the only entirely careless and happy looking man in sight. 
As he answered the eager questions of his passengers, his voice 
rang out with a cheerful, light, happy tone. There. was a kind 



214 PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFOEXU. 

gentleness in it, too, when he spoke to his lady passengers, with 
whom he appeared a great favorite. He now walked across the 
deck to where a gentleman and lady stood, each holding the 
hand of a sweet little girl of twelve, who was standing on a 
chair between them, and whose face was beaming with excite- 
ment and pleasure, as she gazed with her father and mother on 
the scene before them. The captain said, as he approached, 
"Grood morning, Mr. and Mrs. Dicks; where is your charge, 
Mrs. Harvey? Why is she not on deck, to enjoy this first sight 
of her new home and the pleasant termination of her journey?" 

" Oh, yes; where is Mrs. Harvey, sure enough," said Mrs. 
Dicks; "why is she not here? Emma, my dear," she con- 
tinued, addressing her little daughter, " run and look for Mrs, 
Harvey, and ask her to join us." She added in a lower tone, be- 
fore letting go her little daughter's hand: "Tell her the Cap- 
tain asked for her." Off the little girl bounded. Let us follow 
her. In a moment she is in the cabin; not a soul is there; she 
runs to one of the staterooms, and, without ceremony, throws 
the door open. There, seated near a small table, is the lady 
Emma is looking for, her elbow resting on the table and her 
head leaning forward on her hand, apparently absorbed in deep 
thought. She is young, not over twenty-one; she is dressed 
without show or pretence, but most becomingly, and, for the oc- 
casion, with exquisite taste. No ornament but her watch and 
chain, a diamond ring that guards the plain gold one on her 
wedding finger, and the bright diamond cross-pin that fastens 
collar and dress close to her throat, an emblem of unselfish love 
and of truth and purity that it is impossible to dim or tarnish; it 
looks so useful and so in keeping with her own surpassing beauty, 
that you do not remark it, but feel that you would miss it if it 
were not there. She is a little over middle height; her hair, of 
which she has a profusion, is as black as the glossy wing of a 
raven; her eyes are a dark hazel, full of soul, tenderness and 
decided character, as such eyes always are; her beautiful and 
fully developed figure is as faultless in form and outline as the 
expression of her countenance is dignified, sweet and bewitch- 
ingly charming. 

"Oh! Mrs. Harvey," said Emma, "we are almost in the bay; 
San Francisco is clear in sight, and looks so beautiful! and we 
are all so happy! and mamma says, come up on deck, and that 
the Captain asked for you." Off Emma bounded, without wait- 



nOSEEB XniES D{ CALIFOEN1A. 215 

ing for a reply. Mrs. Harvey arose quickly, and, turning to a 
good looking and prepossessing girl, who was evidently her wait- 
ing maid, and who was then engaged in packing and making all 
ready to leave the steamer, said: 

" Katie, I must go on deck. Where is my warm shawl?" 

" Here, ma'am, "said Katie, placing the shawl upon the lady's 
shoulders. "But why," continued Katie, " do you look almost 
sad, my own dear Airs. Harvey, and say must go on deck; I 
should think you would be the happiest woman on earth at this 
moment, just going to meet your dear husband, and such a 
husband as he is! He was counted the handsomest young man 
in Philadelphia, and the best and truest, too, and he always 
loved the very ground you walked on; though, surely, he was not 
to be praised for that, for he could not help himself." 

" Yes, Katie, I should be happy, and am happy, you good, 
dear girl; I always like to hear you praise my darling husband, 
and no one can praise him enough; but, oh! Katie," she con- 
tinued, taking the girl's hand in hers, while every feature of her 
beautiful face became intensely expressive, and her sweet voice 
for a moment sank low and tremulous, yet was clear and deep, 
" as I near the spot where I am to meet him, a strange forebod- 
ing sometimes seizes on me that I can in no way account for or 
at once shake off: a foreboding "' (here her voice for a moment 
choked, and leaning forward until her lips touched Katie's ear, 
as if she herself feared to hear the words she was tiying to utter) 
she continued, "' a foreboding that Fiunk and I are not again to 
meet." There was something so earnest in her look and man- 
ner that Katie trembled to her very feet, but, recovering herself, 
she said in a cheerful voice, " My dear, dear \[rs. Harvey, you 
must not let such bad thoughts haunt you; you will see that it is 
the Evil One who is tormenting you, and that you will be happy 
with your husband this very day. There, now," said Katie, "go 
on deck; the only fault I find with you is that you are too hand- 
some, and that you make all those fellows up there so sorry that 
you are married, poor fellows I I do pity them when I see them 
trying to say something complimentary to you, but are afraid of 
your eyes to do so, as I heard one of them say the other day." 

" Ahl Katie, you must not be such a flatterer; however, I 
know what you are at now, you want me to laugh at your ab- 
surdity, so I forgive you this time, and somehow you do make 
me feel better and happier. I do believe it must be the Evil 



216 PIOXEEK TIMES IX CALIFOKXIA. 

One, as you say, "who torments me, and I will drive him away. 
Did I tell you, Katie," she continued, " that those horrid forebod- 
ings tormented me the week after my marriage, when first we 
heard of gold being discovered in California, and before Mr. Hai- 
vey said a word of Avishing to leave me to go to California. Waa 
it not strange ?" 

"No," said Katie, "because the bad One saw you were too 
happy, and he wanted to bother you; that is his old trick." 

Mrs. Harvey could not help laughing outright at Katie's oil- 
hand and confident way of accounting for thoughts and feelings 
that gave her so much trouble. The dark shadows that but a 
few moments before had oppressed her so heavily were now al- 
most wholly gone; she began to feel light hearted, joyous and 
happy in the almost certainty, it now apj)eared to her, of being in 
another hour, perhaps, clasped in the arms of her loved husband. 
Before going on deck she turned once more to Katie, and once 
more took her hand; this time, in a totally different manner. 
There was a sweet, arch expression, almost a smile, on her lips, 
as she said : 

" Katie, you are a good girl. I think j'ou have a secret." 

At this Katie's handsome face crimsoned to her hair. 

" I see I am right," said Mrs. Harvey, with almost affection in 
her tone. " It is not through idle curiosity I speak to you now, 
but to say to you that though I feel very much disappointed at 
losing you, for I know I never can get a girl like you or one I 
can think half so much of, yet I am pleased with your choice, for 
from what the captain says of Peter, T think you cannot fail to 
be happy with him. He is of your own religion, and is moreover 
an excellent young man in every way. Is it settled between 
you ?" 

"Yes, ma'am; I believe so, if you do not object," said 
Katie, her voice trembling a little as she spoke. She regained her 
self-possession, hoAvever, and raising Mrs. Harvey's hand to her 
lips she kissed it affectionately, and continued, " Peter says he 
has saved a handsome sum, out of which he has bought a nice 
little cottage in San Francisco, and that in a little more time he 
will have enough to get a partnership he is offered in a good 
wholesale grocery' business, and that, then he will give up his 
place here as assistant engineer and remain at home all the time. 
I am sure I do not know what he sees in me to make him so will- 
ing to share ever^ihing he has with me; but," said Katie, with 



PIONEER TIMES IN C.VLIFORXIA. 217 

an honest, womanly pride and frankness, "I know one thing; I 
will do my part, and do all I can to be a good, loving and use- 
ful wife to him. Of course I will never leave you and Mr. Har- 
vey until you are all nicely fixed, and have suited yourselves in 
another girl." 

'• I feel sure of that, Katie," said Mrs. Harvey, " and I do not 
care how good Peter is or how much money he has saved; the 
bargain is as good for him as it can bo for you; and now, Katie, 
if we can do anything for you both, to make things run smoothly, 
you have only to mention it, to be sure of the right response. 
There, I must go on deck; the captain may have something to 
tell me. I spoke to you of your own affairs, as you might want 
, to speak to Peter before you went on shore." 

As Mrs. Harvey finished speakiug, she turned round to the 
little table, and without allowing Kate an opportunitj' to thank 
her, dropped on her knees in prayer. Katie joined her, and for 
five minutes God and His angels alone filled their thoughts, as 
they implored protection in their new home. 

As Mrs. Hai-vey came on deck the steamer was just passing 
the now famous Aleatraz Island, at that time the undisturbed 
residence of thousands of wild fowl. She joined Mr. and Mrs. 
Dicks, under whose j)i'otection she had made the voyage. In a 
moment they were surrounded by twenty gentlemen, all of whom 
seemed anxious to have a parting word with the charming girl. 
She was kind, polite and affable to all, and to all equallj' so. 
There was something of the queen in her bearing towards them; 
something that made them feel that they were her subjects and 
must stand at a distance, and respect as much as they admired. 
To their joyous jokes of the approaching sad loss of her grass 
widowhood and freedom, she retorted with charming wit, and 
in the general mirth and laughter half hid the enchanting blush 
that the allusion spread on her cheeks. The captain now came 
forward, and said in the kindest manner: 

" I congratulate you sincerely, Mrs. Harvey, on your ap- 
proaching happiness; but I want to tell you that I am full two 
days ahead of our usual time, and therefore that you must not 
be (00 much disappointed if Mr. Harvey is not here before the 
river boats get in to-night." 

Mrs. Harvey did feel very much disappointed. Her cheeks 
grew pale, and she did not speak. The captain continued: 

" I could not see you this morning when the pilot-boat was 



218 PIONEER TI5i::S IN CALIFORNIA. 

lea^viug, so I took the liberty of writiugf a note to your cousin, 
Mr. Philips, whom I know very well, to say that you were on 
board; so he will meet you, in any event, as the steamer drops 
the anchor." 

"Thank you. Captain," said Mrs. Harvey; "you were very 
kind to think of me with all your own duties pressing you at 
such a time." 

"Oh," said the captain, " to see to my passengers is one of 
my duties, and in this ease a most pleasing one." 

" Thank you, thank you. Captain, a thousand times, for this 
and all your other kind attentions, to which I owe so much of 
the pleasure of my voyage. " As she said this she extended her 
hand to him with frank cordiality, and continued: " If you 
ever have time to visit us in our new home, be assured of a 
most welcome reception from my husband as well as myself, and 
it may perhaps give us an opportunity of showing you how sin- 
cerely we appreciate all your kind attentions." 

Just at that moment, while the Captain was replying in his 
own gallant way, the steamer dropped her anchor and the boats 
from shore surrounded her. In a minute more Henry Philips, 
Mrs. Harvey's cousin, was before her. He greeted her with the 
same warm affection he would have done a loved sister, calling 
her " Darling Cousin Ellen." 

In the following chapters Ellen's story is told by Henry Phil- 
ips, as he repeated it to me. 



CHAPTER II. 

A PLEASANT LUNCH PARTY RETROSPECT. 

To Cousin Ellen's eager inquiry for Frank, I told lier that be 
■was not in San Francisco, but would be as soon as the river 
boats got in that night. " We did not expect the steamer," I 
told her, " until the day after to-morrow. But do not fear, we 
will take care of you, dear cousin, until he comes," said I. 

Ellen tried hard, I saw, to hide her disappointment as much 
as it was possible, and busied herself introducing me to Mr. and 
Mrs. Dicks, who were compelled to leave that afternoon in the 
Sacramento boat. 

" Then," said I, " I will myself stay on board until Frank gets 
here. I know how you are disappointed, cousin Ellen, but it 
cannot be helped, and you can just j)ass the time in telling me 
all about my dear father and mother. Aunt Mary and Uncle 
John; and all about my own little Jennie, and how she gets on 
without me. You know you will not have time to tell me after 
Frank arrives." 

I spoke in such joyous spirits that Ellen could not but feel 
happy, though disappointed. Just then Katie made her appear- 
ance. She was an old acquaintance of mine, having lived with 
my aunt, Mary Harvey, for some years; so I shook both her 
hands and welcomed her to California, saying at the same time 
that I had a husband picked out for her, all ready to marry her 
on sight. Katie laughed and blushed, and before she could 
reply Ellen told me that she thought I was too late, for that 
Katie's market was made, and well made, too. At this I pre- 
tended to be very mad, and declared the fellow I had engaged 
her to would undoubtedly sue me for a breach of j^romise, as 
women in California were very scarce. Just then came a message 
from the Captain that lunch was waiting for Mrs. Harvey and 
her friend. Ellen took my arm, and we descended to the cabin. 
There we found spread a lunch that looked most inviting. It 
would, in fact, have done honor to a first-class hotel. 



220 PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 

" "Why," said Ellen, " is this California, and does it afford such 
a lunch as that before us?" 

" Oh, Mrs. Harvey," said the Captain, evidently pleased, "this 
is nothing- to what you will find on shore." 

I personally knew almost all j)resent who had come on board 
to welcome the Captain. There was Mr. Merideth, the popular 
agent of the Pacific Mail Company, Charles Minturn, John "W. 
Geary, William D. M. Howard, Charles Griswold, David C. 
Broderick, John Middleton and several other prominent citizens 
of our new State. I recollect well how delighted Cousin Ellen 
was with this California company. She seemed to enjoy their 
easy, off-hand ways, so entirely devoid of formalities, and she 
said to me, afterwards, that it appeared to her, after the first five 
minutes had joassed, that she had been acquainted with the Cap- 
tain's guests all her life. Cousin Ellen was, of course, the center 
of attraction, for in those days a lady in California felt herself a 
queen, with but few to dispute her sway. I have since often 
thought of this lunch, and when I do Cousin Ellen's sweet, ring- 
ing laugh comes back to me with indescribable sadness. 

Now I must go back and give you some of Frank Harvey's 
and Ellen'c early history, so that their characters may be un- 
derstood, while I faithfully relate the events that followed fast 
after that lunch: 

Well, to commence with myself, I am the only son of John 
Philips, of the well-known firm of Philips & Moncks, wholesale 
grocery merchants of Philadelphia. My father had a sister, who 
married a Mr. Steward, a lawyer in handsome practice in Lan- 
caster, Pennsylvania. They had but one child, whom they 
called Ellen, and her they left an orphan at the age of eight 
years, both father and mother having died of cholera in one short 
week. On hearing the sad news, my father at once went to Lan- 
caster, collected all of the property (and it was not much) his 
brother-in-law had left, and invested it for little Ellen, whom he 
brought to our house to be her future home. She was a perfect 
little beauty, and as good as she was beautiful. My mother had 
a sister Mary, who was mairied to a Mr. Harvey, a rich farmer 
near Harrisburg. They also had but one child, a son, whom 
they called Francis. About the time Ellen lost her parents, 
Frank, then fourteen years old, lost his father. Mrs. Harvey 
remained on her farm, and an old bachelor brother of hers. Uncle 
John Grant, came to live with her, taking charge of her busi- 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFOENiA. 221 

ness, and so they lived to tlieir deaths. Frank, by the urgent 
invitations of my father, had lived much with us in the city, and 
had always attended the same schools I did. Now, we were more 
than ever together. Little Ellen was a new feature in our house, 
a perfect little beam of sunshine for us all, and we all vied with 
each other in acts of loving kindness to her. She was every 
one's pet and darling. Frank and Ellen were both my cousins, 
but they were not cousins to each other; nevertheless, we called 
each other cousin, all round. The Grant family were an old 
Catholic family from Maryland, so that mother and Aunt Mary 
Harvey were both Catholics; and as father left all religious train- 
ing to mother, we were all three brought up strict Catholics. So 
passed four years of the happiest childhood that ever mortal 
children knew; not one cloud, worth naming, can I recollect to 
have crossed our path in all that time. Ellen was now nearly 
thirteen and we boys were eighteen, when father announced that 
he wished us to go to Georgetown College and Ellen to the 
famous Catholic school at Emmetsburg. We were glad to go; 
but, oh, how hard we found it to part with our sweet little Nellie. 
It seemed so lonesome that she should go away alone. The day 
came, however, and as Ellen parted with each of us, she kissed 
and hugged us and sobbed as if her little heart would break 
That was one of the days in my past life I shall never forget. 
Frank and I remained three years at Georgetown; Ellen remained 
four years at Emmetsburg, and it so happened that Frank and 
Ellen never met in all that time, for, though all our vacations 
were spent at home, yet the Emmetsburg vacation was at a dif- 
ferent time from ours. 

I had seen her twice during the last year of her school, but 
Frank, on both occasions, was unavoidably absent at his moth- 
er's. At length they met. How changed were both since the 
day Ellen so lovingly flung her arms around Frank's neck, and, 
while sobbing herself, kissed and wiped his tears away, telling 
him not to cry, for they would soon meet again. Frank was now 
a tall, handsome, fine-looking man, with whiskers to match his 
dark hair, instead of the smooth, boyish face and figure he had 
then. Ellen stood, a beautiful, fully developed, charming 
woman, instead of the weeping child he had left her. I was by 
when they met. It was a scene I would not have missed for 
anything. Ellen had been at home a week when Frank arrived 
from his mother's. "When Ellen heard that Frank was in the 



222 PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFOEKIA. 

parlor she rushed in to see him. Frank, hearing her step, ran 
to the door to meet her, and he evidently thought to clasp 
her in his arms as he had so often done of old. The door opened 
— they met; but, instead of embracing each other, they stopped 
short, and each regarded the other in perfect amazement for per- 
haps half a minute, without a word of utterance. I could see 
that there was pleasure and unbounded admiration, as well as 
astonishment in the countenance of each. Ellen was the first to 
recover herself. She extended her hand and said : 

" Why, Frank, dear Frank! I am so glad to see you." 
Frank grasped her hand as he said : 
" And is this all after being away four years ?" 
" But, Frank, you are a man." 
" But, Cousin Ellen, you are a woman." 

" Yes, I know, dear Frank; but we are not, in fact, cousins, 
you know, and I am sorry we are not, and both children, as we 
used to be." 

She said this with a tender earnestness that awoke a new, 
strange feeling in Frank's heart. 

" And I would be a child forever," said he, half reproachfully, 
" rather than endure such a cold meeting as this with you." 

" We cannot help having grown up, even if we are sorry for 
it, dear Frank," said Ellen, half laughing; " so let us make the 
best of it, and not be foolish." 

In a few days, it appeared to me they became reconciled to 
the change time had w^rought in them, and I fully believe that 
Ellen was not so sorry after all that Frank was not, in fact, her 
cousin, as she expressed it, and was a handsome grown-up man, 
nor do I believe Frank was so very sorry that Ellen was a beauti- 
ful woman. Anyway, if they were sorry, they showed it in a 
very strange way, for neither seemed to be happy except the 
other was in sight. Here I will just mention, though I am not 
writing a word of my own history, that at the time I am now 
speaking of, I had a little sweet-heart myself, a perfect little 
witch, that could make me happ}' or miserable for a week, 
with just one look; a great pet, too, of my father and moth- 
er, Miss Jennie Moncks, daughter of my father's partner. 
When I left home for California, Jennie and I were engaged, 
and she was in the habit of writing letters to me, full of tor- 
menting fun. Sometimes she would tell me in glowing terms 
about returned Californians hunting for wives, who visited her, 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 



223 



telling lier of the beauties of California, life and showing her 
lots of eight-sided fifty-dollar gold slugs, common then in San 
Francisco, to tempt her to forget me. Then she would some- 
times write very seriously, asking me such impertinent ques- 
tions as : 

"When were you last at confession, and do you say your 
jorayers regularl}', morning and evening?" 

When I pretended to take offence at this sort of a letter, she 
would write : 

" Well, darling, I cannot help it, if you do get mad with your 
little Jennie. W^e are taught, you know, that there never was a 
man, or woman either, who can depend on themselves to keep in 
the right road. The Old Boy is after us all, and he will surely get 
us, if God is not with us in the fight; so I want you to pray morn- 
ing and night for us both, that God may be near us in all temp- 
tations, and I will do the same." 

So my next letter to her would be a " make-up,'' and I felt 
that, perhaps, it was well for me that I had some one to pray for 
me and keep me straight, for if there ever was a place where the 
Old Boy walked out in open daylight it was San Francisco at 
that time. As I dislike talking of myself, I will finish all of my 
own history that I am disposed to give, by saying that in the 
Spring of 1851 I returned to Philadelphia, fulfilled my engage- 
ment with Miss Jennie Moncks, and brought back to my Califor- 
nia home as true a wife as ever stood by man's side in the battle 
of life. 

But, to return to my story. Frank and myself entered the 
house of Philips & Moncks, as clerks, for one year. Then we 
were to become partners in the house, and, after five years, to 
succeed to the business, when it was agreed that my father and 
Mr. Moncks were to retire from the firm. The firm was then one 
of the most flourishing in the city, so our prospects were as 
bright as bright could be, and oh, what a happy year that year of 
our clerkship was to us all four. No care of business beyond our 
daily duties, and these were not too burdensome. Our evenings, 
our holidays, our Sundays, were all spent together. No one went 
to a i^arty or place of amusement if all were not to be there. 
At home we were a little party in ourselves . At times, Ellen 
and Jennie played and sang for us; other evenings, mother 
played the piano for us all to dance. Sometimes, Frank and I 
would read some new and interesting book, aloud, while mother 



iJ24 PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFOIIXIA. 

gave lessons to the girls, in making shirts or something equally 
useful. Sometimes we had a game of whist or some amusing 
game in which father and mother and Jennie's parents, who were 
often at our house, would join. Our devotions were at the same 
church. Our night prayers were said together, and always opened 
with a chaj)ter in the Bible or some religious book, read by father, 
J^rank or myself. As I look back, now, on that j-ear of my life, 
it appears to my memory without a tear of sorrow or one sad 
sigh, that I can draw to mind. I did not then know I loved Jen- 
nie, and I feel sure that Ellen and Frank had no idea how deeply 
they loved each other. All we knew was that we felt exquisitely 
happy, and that the woi'id appeared to us an opening paradise. 
Frank, from his childhood, was remarkable for his love of truth 
and a high sense of honor. I believe he would have suffered 
death, at any time, rather than violate his promise, once given, 
or willfully deceive any one, by word or act, in the most trivial 
matter. " Truth, fidelity and constancy," he would say, " con- 
stitute the atmosphere of heaven, without which, it could not 
l»e the abode of God and his angels, while falsehood, inconstancy 
and deception of all kinds make the fuel that suj)plies and keeps 
alive the flames in the abode of the wicked. " 

Ellen full}' shared with Frank in all these noble sentiments. 
She had a decided character of her own, and it would have been 
impossible, I know, for her to have ever loved a man whose honor, 
fidelity and truth was not beyond all question. They both had, 
perhaps, one fault, and, so far as the human eye could discern, it 
was the only one. It was the same St. Peter had, too much self- 
reliance; too confident, too proud, as it were, of their own de- 
termination to be good. If this was so, they were both uncon- 
scious of it. About the first of August, 1848, Frank went home 
to make his mother a visit, just six weeks before he and I were to 
enter the firm of Philips & Moncks, as partners. His mother 
was yet young, only nineteen years older than Frank himself. 
His uncle, John Grant, was twenty years older than Frank's 
mother, a fine, hale, hearty old gentleman, devoted to his sister 
and to Frank, and, if you saw them all together, you would have 
supposed that he was the father of both . Their manner to him 
was always loving and respectful; his to them devoted and 
fatherly. They were both delighted to see Frank. His mother 
hugged and kissed him, and then pushed hiui away, that she 
might look at him the better, and then embraced and kissed him 



PIONEER TIMES EX C.VLIFORNIA. 225 

ftgain, while tears ran down lier handsome face. John Grant 
laughed at his sister for being so foolish, so he said, as to crj-; 
but Katie, Mrs. Harvej^'s hired girl, declared that she saw shin- 
ing drops on the old gentleman's own cheeks. 

"I cannot help it," said Mrs. Harvey; "Frank has grown so 
handsome, and looks so very like his own dear father." 

When they sat to meals, Frank had to take his old j)lace be- 
tween them, and tell them all the city news and all the good 
jokes he had heard while awa}', to make them laugh and amuse 
them. Both uncle and mother soon discovered that nothing 
pleased Frank so well as to talk to him of Ellen Steward. In 
fact, they found it was very hard to get him to talk of anybody 
else. 

John Grant waited one day until Frank had left the room, and 
then, turning to Mrs. Harvey, said: 

""Well, sister Mary, what do you think of it?" 

"Of what?" said Mrs Harvey. 

""Why, of course, of Frank and Ellen Steward getting mar- 
ried; you see his head is full of her. Poor fellow! I was once 
like him," added the old gentleman, with a deep sigh. 

"Well, brother," said Mrs. Harvey, " what do you think of it?" 

"Of course," said John, " I think they had better get mar- 
ried out of hand. You know I have the ten thousand dollars all 
ready that you are to pay to Philips & Moncks on the fifteenth 
of October, the day Frank is to be taken into the firm as a part- 
ner, and then Ellen has a few thousands of her own, so I see 
nothing in the way. I always loved Ellen dearly. Her father 
was an old friend of mine, and she is a noble girl, just the one, 
in my view, for Frank. " 

Mrs, Harvey remained in deep thought for some moments, 
while her brother walked up and down the breakfast parlor. At 
length she said : 

"Ellen is surely a noble, dear, good girl, as you and Frank 
both say. She is beautiful and accomjolished. What more 
could I want for my darling son ? But," she continued, cover- 
ing her face with her handkerchief, to hide flowing tears, " I will 
then be alone, for Frank will love Ellen so much he will for- 
get me." 

" Alone?" repeated her brother slowly, in a sorrowful, reproach- 
ful tone. In a moment Mrs. Harvey's arms were around her 

brother's neck, and, while she kissed his cheek, she said: 
15 



226 



PIONEEB TIMES IN CAIilFORMIA. 



"Forgive me, brother; you misunderstood me. Do not think 
that, for a moment, I can ever forget or undervalue your un- 
selfish love and devotion to me since the day of my sad loss; but, 
brother, shall we not both miss Frank when he is married ?" 

" You are mistaken, Mary," said John, " for I know Ellen so 
well that I know you will gain a daughter, and not lose a son, by 
this marriage." 

After a little more conversation, Mrs. Harvey became not only 
reconciled, but now anxious for the marriage. That day, when 
she took her usual ride out with Frank, she asked him if Ellen 
had any admirers. 

"Admirers, mother!" said he. " Why, every one admires her." 

" Oh, but I mean lovers," said Mrs. Harvey. 

"Lovers!" repeated Frank, in astonishment; "of course, she 
has none. I should like to see the fellow that would have the 
impudence to set up to be her lover." 

As Frank said this, he tickled Mrs. Harvey's blooded horses 
with his whip in a most impatient manner, exciting the animals 
so as to make it difficult to hold them. 

"Are you sure, Frank," said Mrs. Harvey, with emphasis, 
" that Ellen has not one lover ?" 

" I am, mother, quite sure," said Frank, looking at his mother 
earnestly, and with a half frightened expression in his counte- 
nance. Seeing a smile playing on his mother's face, he suddenly 
reined up his horses, and, turning toward her, said, in a beseech- 
ing tone: " Mother, dear mother, you pain me very much; tell 
me what you mean?" 

" And why, darling, do I pain you? Surely you have no ob- 
jection that Ellen should have a lover, if he is the right sort of a 
man." 

" But, dear mother, Ellen Steward has no lover; so, darling 
mother, tell me what you mean. " 

" Well my son, I will tell you what I mean," said Mrs. 
Harvey, with a serious manner and countenance. "It is this: I 
am well convinced that Ellen Steward has a lover, and I think it 
is time you should know it. / know who he is, and he is one who 
I think is in every way a suitable match for her and worthy of 
her, and, what is more, I think she loves him. Now, dear Frank, 
as Ellen is a dear friend, you should be glad to hear all this, and 
of course you are." 

"I glad," said Frank, as he brought his whip down with a 



PIO^"EES TTMES Ds CALITOENTA. 227 

vengeance on his uaoSending horses. The animals were too high 
strung to stand this extraordinary treatment, so off they plunged 
and dashed headlong towards the city of Harrisburg. Mrs. 
Harvey grew deadly pale with fright, seeing Frank was unable 
to stem their furious flight. As they neared the Susquehannah 
river it took all his efforts to guide them lo the bridge, but he 
did succeed, and the moment the horses found themselves under 
the cover of that magnificent structure, the pride of all Penn- 
sylvanians, they became tractable and entirely in hand once more. 
This incident prevented further conversation at that time be- 
tween mother and son. That evening, after Uncle John had 
retired, Frank came to kiss his mother good-night. TThen she 
took his hand it was cold, and his face looked sad and pale. 

" What is the matter, my darling child; are you unwell ?*'" said 
she, in alarm. Frank, without speaking, dropped into the seat 
by her, and, raising her hand to his lips, kissed it, saying: 

'•' Dear mother, what you told me to-day, I find has made me 
perfectly miserable." 

"Why, Frank?' she asked 

" Because, mother, 1 find that it will kill me if Ellen loves 
any man."' Here he hesitated, and his mother added: 

" But yourself, I suppose." 

" Oh, mother, I cannot say how that is, but I am sure that if 
I love Ellen in the way you mean, I did not know it before, and 
now, my darling mother, tell me who this fellow is who loves her, 
and whom you say she loves in return, in which I know you must 
be mistaken, mother. '■' 

" The person I mean, my darling boy, is not far from here." 

" Not far from here ? Mother, who can you mean ?" 

"Yes,"'" said Mrs. Harvey; "it is so, and he is now in this 
room." 

At this Frank jximped to his feet, and, looking the whole room 
over, said : 

" Surely, mother, we are alone." 

"Then," said Mrs. Harvey, with a look of love and playful 
fun, "if I am right ,one of us must be Ellen's happy, favored 
lover." 

For the first time Frank read his mother's meaning. "Without 
a word, he threw his arms around her neck, and said: 

" Yes, mother; you are right. I am Ellen's lover, and I trust 
you are right, too, in thinking that she loves in return. Thank 
you, my darling mother, for showing me the truth." 



228 PIONEER TIMES IX C.ILIFOENIA. 

The next day, Frank and his mother and Uncle John had a 
long talk, the result of which was that Frank started back to 
Philadelphia on the following Monday . Just as he was seated 
in the stage, Uncle John whispered in his ear: 

" Dear boy, if you and Ellen bring matters to a close, mind 
there are two thousand dollars more, of my private fund, that I 
am going to give you . " 

" Thank — thank you, my dear devoted Uncle," said Frank, as 
the coach started off. 

What a wild excitement was in Frank's heart the whole way as 
he returned to Philadelphia. Over and over again he rehearsed 
the scene that was so soon to take jilace between himself and 
Ellen. He did not look forward to it wholly without doubt and 
fear as to its result. What man ever does ? For sometimes he 
would say to himself : ' ' What if mother was mistaken ?" But 
hope and confidence predominated, and when his imagination 
would conclude the scene to his entire satisfaction, he was happy 
to half -intoxication. 

He surprised us all by his arrival, as we did not expect him 
for another week. However, we showed him by our reception 
that we were delighted to see him. He avoided our of t-repeated 
question as to what caused his early return. Ellen, who during 
Frank's absence had been thoughtful and almost sad, was now 
all gaiety and life. As she met Frank, every feature of her face 
was beaming with pleasure, and she said: 

" I am delighted, Frank, to see you. But do tell us to what 
we owe the happiness of your sudden return." 

He hesitated a moment; then, taking her hand, said: 

" It is a secret just now, but I will confide it to you," and, 
drawing her close to him, he whispered in her ear: " I came 
darling Nellie, solely to be near you and to speak to you." 

Ellen's heart bounded, and a deep blush suffused her face. 
Why, &he could not tell. It was, that there was something ten- 
der and meaning, if not loving, in Frank's voice and manner; 
something new; something she had never noticed before; some- 
thing that awoke a feeling in her heart that was wondrous sweet 
and strange. That night when she retired to her rest, she re- 
jjeated his words over and over — "I came, darling Nellie, solely 
to be near you and to speak to you," — and each time the simj)le 
words sent the same wondrous thrilling joy through every nerve 
of her system. "Is this love ?" she whispered low to herself. "Oh, 



PtONEEK TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 229 

yes; it must be, for I feel now that the journey through the 
world would be lonesome and weary, and all its future for me a 
blank, if Frank was not to be by my side to aid and guard my steps 
and cheer the way, and that I would die to make him happy." 

Thus one happy sweet reflection chased another until all her 
waking thoughts were lost in sleei?. If child-like innocence and 
angelic purity should bring happy, blissful dreams, surely they 
were Cousin Ellen's that night. 

Yes, dear cousin; it is love you have discovered in your heart 
this night. Love so unbounded, so confiding, so undoubting, so 
absorbing, that it is almost worship rather than love, and though 
Frank, who has won it, would not for all the world's honors, or 
for any consideration on earth, yield up one ray of its intensity 
and warmth, yet he will find it a dangerous, if it is a delightful 
treasure; for, if in life's journey, through human frailty, he 
should make one false step, you will find it hard to make your- 
self believe he was the being you loved and to summon charity 
to aid you in forgiving, where you cannot now believe there could 
be a fault. Sleep on, sweet cousin; dream over and over those 
happy dreams that now cover your face in sleep with smiles and 
blushes. Would that ihey were all realized in after life, and 
then I should not have had to add your sad story to the record 
of the woes that California brought to many a quiet and happy 
household, when her untold treasures became known. 



CHAPTER III 



THE PKOPOS.Oi OF MARRIAGE. 



Aunt Mercy, Frank's mother, bad announced by letter to my 
motber Frank's intention of asking for Ellen's band; so, that 
very nigbt tbe old folks took the matter under consideration and 
concluded, witb great j)leasure, to favor bis suit. Tbe result 
was, therefore, tbat wben Frank came to see motber tbe next 
morning on tbe subject, sbe did not wait for bim to speak, but, 
throwing her arm around his neck, kissed him, and told bim to 
go and speak with bis uncle. Father enjoyed Frank's embar- 
rassment very much, and for some time jjretended not to view 
the matter favorably; but at length took pity on his almost sad 
face, and, walking over to him, be kissed his cheek, and, laying 
bis band on bis head, said, in a voice full of love and kindness: 

" God bless you, my boy. Gro and see Ellen, and if sbe herself 
wishes it I will give her to you with more pleasure than I would 
to any man living. jVIind, Frank, she is a priceless treasure. She 
has always been a most loving daughter to me. I never bad 
any other, and if God had sent me one, I feel I could not have 
loved her more than I do my sweet, darling Nellie. Take her, 
Frank," he continued, while tears glistened in bis eyes; " but 
mind, I know she believes you what no man, or woman either, 
wholly is — perfect. So be careful and watch tbat she ma}' never 
be bai'sbly undeceived, for tbe consequences might be teivlble." 

" Thanks, thanks. Uncle, a thousand times over and over," 
said Frank, kissing my father's band, "for your consent, and 
for the advice you give me with it, which I promise never to for- 
get." 

" Trust in God, dear boy, for your strength to do so," said 
my father, solemnly; and, again blessing bim, they parted. 

Frank, now, with bounding boj)e, sought Ellen. He found her 
in the conservatory at her usual work for tbat hour in tbe morn- 
ing, watering, trimming and arranging her favorite flowers. 

" Nellie," said Frank, as he approached her, holding out 
bis band. 



flONKER TIMES IX CALIFORNIA. 23l 

" Frank," she responded, taking his hand in hers, and blush- 
ing, she knew not why. Happy, happy Frank; happy, happy 
Ellen exchanged warm, true vows of love and fidelity. Seal 
them, Frank, with a kiss so pure and holy that the angel who 
records can approve. Yes, dear cousins; enjoy, to its utmost, 
that short hut most happy hour — that hour that comes but 
once in any man's life; that hour the like of which is nevei 
found in any other part of all life's journey from the cradle to 
the grave; that hour, the bliss of which can never be compre- 
hended by the mercenaiy, selfish and unloving. 

I shall attempt no discussion of this scene between Ellen and 
Frank, but leave it to be enjoyed in imagination. 

In the afternoon of that day, it became known to us all that 
Frank and Ellen were engaged. The news was hailed with joy 
by every one, and congratulations poured in upon them from all 
their friends. At our home all was gaiety and happiness; never 
was there a betrothal more promising of a bright future than 
that of Prank Harvey and Ellen Steward. The wedding day 
was fixed to be the day after Frank and myself were to become 
partners in the firm of Philips & Moncks. That great day at length 
came, as all such days will. I shall never forget it. It stands 
out in my memory in bold relief, as do other days marked by either 
joy or sorrow, and like them it is everjiresent when my thoughts 
are on the past. The marriage ceremony was in St. Joseph's 
Church. Rev. Father Bacbelin officiated. I stood up with 
Frank; Jennie Moncks with Ellen. Aunt Mary, Frank's mother, 
and Uncle John Grant were there, of course. The church was 
crowded with friends, and all were extravagant in their praise 
and admiration of the young couple whose union they had come 
to honor. This was not surprising, for Ellen was certainly of 
unsurpassing beauty, and Frank, in form, face and bearing, was 
just such as you would imagine a girl like Ellen would love and 
marry. After the ceremony, when Aunt Mary, mother and 
father saluted the bride, they could not conceal their tears and 
agitation, but they were tears that told of overflowing happiness, 
not of sorrow. On our return from church, we did justice to 
mother's splendid breakfast. After breakfast, the happy loved 
ones set out on a visit to relatives in Baltimore. They were then 
to join Frank's mother at her own home, and, after a little while, 
to return to Philadelphia and go to housekeeping, like old 
married folks, and Frank was to settle down in business for all 



232 PIONEER TIMES IX CALIFORNIA. 

time to come; and so I wish it were, and so it might have 
been, if it was not for California and her gold. 

In the Spring of that year, 1848, Philip & Moncks had ship- 
ped a large consignment of flour to Buenos A.yres. The re- 
turn account sales reached our iirm oa the first of November, 
the veiy day Frank and Ellen arrived home from their wedding 
trip. The speculation had proven unfortunate, and a loss to the 
old firm of over seventy-five thousand dollars. This was fol- 
lowed by an equally disastrous account sales of cotton shipped 
to Liverpool, also on account of the old firm. These large 
losses did not shake in the least the credit and standing of our 
house, but both Frank and myself saw that it would be only 
right for us to ofi"er to modify the terms on which we had been 
admitted members of the firm. We did so promptly, and while 
the matter was under consideration accounts reached Philadel- 
phia of the wonderful discovery of gold in California. The 
accounts from there, though true in the main, were so astonish- 
ing that at first they were looked ujjon as fabulous. But then 
came the testimony of Grovernor Mason, who forwarded state 
ments of the gold discoveries to the Secretary of Wai; at 
"Washington. Then came a letter from Thomas O. Larkin, late 
"United States Consul at Monterey. Then letters from J. D. 
Stevenson, Colonel of the California-New York regiment, and 
Captain Folsom, United States Paymaster in San Francisco, 
all of which seemed to establish the truth of the gold discov- 
eries beyond all question. Now arose the never-to-be-forgotten 
California fever and excitement all over the country, from Maine 
to Texas. Nothing was talked of, nothing was thought of, but 
California and her gold. To go to California, fathers left their 
wives and children, without even a reasonable prospect of sup- 
port in their absence; sons left their widowed mothers and de- 
pendent sisters to struggle on for themselves; newly-married 
men left their brides, often in the hands of strangers, and unpro- 
tected; lovers left their sweethearts with vows of fidelity on 
their lips, in some cases only to be remembered, in the excite- 
ment and bustle of California life, as the aged wicked recall to 
memory the pure and good resolutions and promises of their 
innocence and youth. All, without regard to consequences, 
rushed madly on in the pursuit of gold'! Gold; gold ! was their 
cry by day and the subject of their dreams by night. Every- 
thing, from Heaven to Hell, but gold and its acquisition seemed 



PIO^•EER XniES IX CALIFORXIA. 



233 



for a time forgotten. From the first I noticed that Frank took 
the greatest interest in the accounts from California, ai^il I 
feared the consequences. He said but little about it, however, 
at home, until the day we received Governor Mason's published 
statements, and that of Thomas O. Larkin. That day Ellen had 
been out nearly all day with mother, as she had been for several 
days previously, looking up a suitable house for Frank and her- 
self. As we returned to dinner, she met us in the hall, and, 
running to Frank for her kiss, she said: 

" Oh, dear Frank, we have found such a nice house; I know 
you will be pleased with it. It has a beautiful garden, and 
everything just as yoii told me you would like. I know you 
will take it the moment you see it. The rent, too, is moderate." 

Frank seemed for a moment embarrassed, but, kissing her 
again, he said: 

"If it suits you, my darling, I know it will be just what I 
want." 

His manner and voice did not escape the quick perception of 
his young wife. While yet his arm was around her waist, she 
quickly turned towards him, and, laying one hand on his 
shoulder, with the other she raised the clustering hair from his 
high forehead, and, gazing for an instant with eager earnestness 
into his face, she said, in a questioning tone: 

" Surely, you are not unwell, my darling; or has some more 
bad news come for the firm ?" 

" No, dearest; I was never better, and we have had no more 
bad news, I assure you," said he, half embarassed and half an- 
noyed, as he withdrew his arm from her waist. A7ithout saying 
a word, she slipped her arm in his, and, pressing it close to her 
side, walked on with him in silence. 

Frank felt the gentle appeal, and answered it, in a manner, by 
saying: 

" My own gentle, darling wife, do not for an instant suppose I 
am withholding, or wish to withhold, one thought of my heart 
from you. No; a thought, a feeling, a wish or aspiration enter- 
tained by me in which I could not let you share would become 
to me an intolerable burden. No, my wife; you shall always 
share, for it is your right, all that is mine to share, be it joj or 
be it sorrow, even to my thoughts, let the consequences be what 
they may to either of us." 

"While he spoke, Ellen's eyes, though swimming in moisture, 
were beaming with love, full on his face. He continued: 



234 PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 

" "U hat 3'ou observed in my manner this evening- was, that my 
head is full of the wonderful news from California. Governor 
Mason and the United States Consul at Monterey have sent home 
statements that fully corroborate all the strange stories of gold- 
finding we have been reading of for some weeks past. Alad- 
din's Lamjj is nowhere compared to the wonders of the Sacra- 
mento and San Joaquin, and other localities in California, where 
every man can be his own Geni and call up from the earth, at 
will, boundless wealth." 

" And do you really believe all this, Frank ? " said Ellen. 

" How can I doubt it ? You shall judge for yourself, for after 
dinner I will read for you the Mason and Larkin statements." 

At dinner the only topic was California, and after dinner 
Frank, as he had promised, read aloud for us all the accounts of 
the gold discoveries, as given by Governor Mason and others. 
Father was indisposed to believe, in full, the accounts, and 
urged that, though there was gold there, undoubtedly, yet it 
would require labor and capital to obtain it. Ellen joined 
warmly in this view, and I could see that she looked pale, 
troubled and anxious the whole evening. I thought to myself: 
*' "Well, all poor Ellen's little castles of a contented home, in 
which she was to be the happy queen and Frank her idol, are 
likely to disappear just as she thought she was going to realize 
them." 

That night, when they retired to their room, Ellen said, in an 
assumed, careless voice : 

" Well, old fellow, you have not said a word to me of our 
new home; the house I selected for us to-day." 

" No, dearest, I have not; but to-morrow we will talk it all 
over. "Will not that do ?" 

Poor Ellen ! She could hardly keep from giving way to her 
feelings in tears, but, overcoming herself, she said, in a low, 
half-choked voice: 

" Well, leave it until then." 

Frank was so full of California he did not observe the tone of 
her answer, and her feelings remained unknown to Lim. He 
soon fell asleep, for, though excited, he was very tired; but in 
his dreams he was on the Sacramento river. He murmured 
words in his sleep, but the only one Ellen could distinguish was 
that now odious one to her, "Gold!" Ellen could not sleej). But 
yesterday her heart was full of worldly happiness, and life's 



PIONEER TIMES IN CAXIEOENIA. 235 

IDath in the future looked all so bright and full of sunshine that 
it seemed impossible that a cloud or storm was near; yet, now, 
a strange, troubled feeling oppressed her — a fear, as it were, of 
some ajDproaching calamity, she knew not what, that foreboded 
to her the utter destruction of her bright visions of married life. 
She sometimes felt as though some demon was struggling to 
possess himself of her darling husband, and separate them for 
time and eternity. She tried to shake off the horrid thoughts 
and feelings as they crowded on her, but her efforts were vain, 
and now her poor head ached and her lips became dvj and 
parched. Without awakening Frank, she arose from her bed, 
and walked in the moonlight to her little oratory. There, drop- 
ping on her knees, with clasped hands and bowed head, she 
sought relief in earnest prayer. " Heavenly Father," she mur- 
mured, " save and guard and guide my husband, and if it be 
Thy holy will to part us and that I shall walk the earth alone, be 
ib so; I will not murmur if Thou but lead us both together to 
Thy throne in Heaven in the end." Then she prayed for cour- 
age and resolution to bear up, as He would have her do, in the 
trial she felt to be impending. With the last words of her 
prayer, the fountain of her heart seemed thrown open, and floods 
of tears came rushing to her relief. She arose from her knees 
so perfectly calmed and resigned that her heart was filled with 
gratitude to Heaven. She stole back to her bed, and, leaning 
over her almost worshiped husband, she gazed on his face as 
though she wished once more to imprint every line and feature 
of his countenance on the inmost recesses of her heart. It was a 
long, earnest gaze. She smiled as she said, half-aloud: 

" He never loved any one but me," and, stooping, she kissed 
his foi'ehead. Then, nestling more closely into her place, sleep 
soon came to soothe and calm her excited nerves. 



CHAPTER IV. 



DEPABTUEE FOR CALIFORNIA. 



"With Ellen the great struggle was over, and it did not take her 
by surprise the next day when Frank, seating himself by her, 
told her that he thought of going to California. He ex- 
plained to her all the advantages it was sure, as he said, to bring. 
In the first place, he could not think of I'emaining in the firm as 
full partner after the great losses the house had sustained. It 
would be ungenerous to his uncle to do so, and then he would 
only be one year away. He would not only make a fortune for 
himself, but also be enabled to help Philij^s & Moncks to 
make uj) their losses dy selling goods for them in the California 
market. It would be an advantage, too, to Cousin Henry, he 
iirged. " And then, my darling, angel wife," he went on, " I 
wish to make this sacrifice for yon. I long to see you mistress 
of a magnificent establishment, which I will build on my return 
on the banks of the Delaware, or, perhaps, if 3'ou prefer it, the 
Hudson, for you to preside over as queen, and there shall be 
none in all the land who will not covet the acquaintance of my 
wife. Then her wealth and position will be in keeping with her 
beauty and accomplishments. I do not say this to flatter, dar- 
ling. If I did, I would despise myself; but you do not know how 
I yearn to see you in the position nature intended you for; ac- 
knowledged by all to be the first among the first." 

While he spoke, Ellen kept his hand in hers, and calmly gazed 
on his face. 

" I would not be a wife worth having," she said, " if I doubted 
the sincerity of a word you have spoken; but, my darling hus- 
band, do you know that I would rather live my life in thejilainest 
cottage in Philadelphia, and be totally unknown to all the world, 
if you were there, contented and happy, than live in a mansion 
of Eastern magnificence with a thousand slaves at my feet, if 
this worldly grandeur was to cost me one year's absence from 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALII'OENU. 237 

you? Ob, Frank, we have sworii 'until death never to part.* 
Let us be careful how we trifle Avith that solemn vow." 

Then, laying' both her hands on his shoulders, while her bosom 
heaved and expanded, her eyes beaming with the light of sud- 
denly-awakened hope that she could solve the difficulty and 
ward off the terrible blow, she continued wdth wild animation: 

" Why, cannot I go mth 3'ou '? Oh, yes, Frank; do say I can 
go; you know that aunt is proud of my knowledge of every de- 
scription of house\\-ifery. There is no dish, she says, so plain 
or homely that vay skill cannot do something to make it sweet 
and savory. There is none so rare and uncommon as to be en- 
tirely unknown to me. She boasts, too, of my needle, and says 
it would be as much at home in the miner's shirt or overalls as 
3'ou have seen it in the embroidery you so much admired. Oh, 
yes, dearest; do say you will have me go. I will keep our little 
miner's cottage so neat, so bright, that it will be the envy of all. 
I will train wild roses to embower and shade it from the hot sun. 
Those beamiful California wild flowers shall decorate our table 
more charmingly than do costly ornaments the tables of the 
proud and wealthy. I will gather the wild mosses they tell us 
of there, and fashion for you to rest upon, when tired and 
weary, a lounge that luxury itself might envy; and then I will 
read to you or sing you some favorite song, which will take us 
back, in our thoughts, to our old home and to the happy days 
when we were children together." 

She went on, while her eyes swam with struggling tears: 

" Oh, Frank, do not speak of difficulties or dangers in the 
way, for there is no mountain that I would think rugged or steep 
if you were but there to lead the way. There is no river or 
stream that to me would look dark or dangerous if you were but 
there to guard me. There is no desert plain or valley that to me 
would seem lonesome if you were but there to cheer me. There 
is no southern sun that to me would be unendurable, nor snow, 
nor north wind that I would not freely face, if you, my darling 
husband, were but there to love me. Here, here," she continued, 
laying her hand on his heart, while her lips quivered with emo- 
tion, " is my home, my ivorld, all the world I care or ask for." 
With the last words her voice grew soft and lower until it was 
lost in his bosom, where she nestled her head. 

Frank clasped her close to his heart, while his frame trembled 
as if in agony; his head leaned forward until their cheeks met. 



238 FIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 

For a few minutes neither spoke, but wept together the first sor- 
rowing tears California had cost them. Then Frank murmured: 

" I will not g-o, darling, if you cannot endure the trial." 

In that short sentence Frank had struck a chord that ever lies 
near the hearts of the unselfish, generous and brave. Ellen 
quickly raised her head, Aviped all traces of her grief away; then, 
summoning to her aid all the strength or her great character, 
said in a calm, steady voice: 

" My husband, I have made you unhappy; those tears on your 
cheeks frighten me." While speaking she gently wiped them 
away, with her own soft handkerchief. *' Do not do your 
wife the injustice of supposing that she is so weak or childish 
that she cannot, with perfect contentment, do anything you may 
think right and proper for her to do, even if it involves a tem- 
porary separation. I would rather, as I have said, face deserts, 
snows and burning suns and be with you, than have all the 
wealth and grandeur on earth, and you away. Yet, my husband, 
depend on it I will feel happy, so happy, in doing whatever you 
think best for us both to do in this matter. What j-ou say about 
the advantage it will bo to our dear uncle, who has been more 
than a father to me and to Cousin Henry, who is as dear to me 
as ever brother was to sister, will make the sacrifice sweet and 
light; so cheer up, my darling, my consent is given, and given 
freely. One short year, and we will be again together, never, oh 
never, to part." 

Again Frank clasped her to his heart, while he exclaimed : 
" Noble, noble girl! Generous, heroic wife! Priceless treasure 
of my inmost heart! Can I ever love and admire you half as 
much as you desei-ve to be admired and loved ? But you shiill 
see, my -wife, I will strive to be worthy of you, and, my dai*ling, 
you shall bo the object of all the struggles and efi'orts I will 
make for success, not only in this California enterprise, but in 
everything I undertake, and do not allow yourself to imagine 
that this temporary separation is any trifling with the sacred vow 
we made to each other at the altar, never to part, for I but place 
you, as it were, in the background for a moment to shield you 
from a danger that, unavoidably, crosses my path. No, my 
wife, believe me, I would rather die than even seem to trifle with 
that holy vow." 

'' Be it so, be it so, my husband; and yet," said Ellen, drop- 
ping her voice almost to a whisper, "something seems to tell me 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 239 

that I could savo you from a clanger, if I were with you; but 
it is, I suppose, au idle thought, and I will try and not think of 
it." 

" There is no danger to me, my angel, be sure, that I cannot 
ward off; but there might be for us both if I were so rash as to 
expose you where common prudence forbids it." 

"I am satisfied, dear husband, and may God grant that we 
have decided right this day, and in the way most pleasing to 
Him." 

That and the next day all was arranged with our firm. Frank 
■s\-ithdrew from it, and was to have twenty thousand dollars in 
goods consigned to him, for sale on joint account, in the Califor- 
nia market. The goods were to be shipped by the Greyhound 
and Grey Eagle, one of which was about to sail from Baltimore, 
and the other from Philadelphia, for San Francisco. They were 
two of the first three clipper-built ships that entered the '49 Cali- 
fornia trade. The third was the Architect, which sailed a few 
days later from New Orleans. Thcj^ were splendid ships, and 
made fine voyages; but they did not compare with that fleet of 
clii^pers the California trade so soon afterwards spread on the 
ocean, and which so astonished the marine world, not only for 
their matchless sailing qualities and freight capacity, but for the 
beauty of their structure and magnificence of their finish. Frank 
also bought goods and shipped them on his own account, and 
then took his passage by the first steamship that sailed for 
Panama. He arrived safely on the Pacific side of the Isthmus, 
but there he had some weary days to wait, as the steamer that 
was to take him to San Francisco had not yet arrived from her 
trip round Cape Horn. It came at last, however, and in due 
time Frank arrived in San Francisco in the first steamer that 
ever entered the Golden Gate. His judgment led him to be- 
lieve that it would be best to locate himself as near the mines as 
possible, as they were, of course, the source of all trade in Cali- 
fornia at that time. He therefore established himself in business 
in S . 

From the day Ellen had given her entire consent until the day 
Frank left us, she was cheerful, and, to a casual observer, ap- 
peared happ3'. Frank's mother and uncle, John Grant, came to 
Philadelphia to see Frank oil', and the arrangement was that 
Ellen was to go home with him and remain with Aunt Mary 
until Frank returned. 



240 PIONEER TIMES IN C.\LIFORNL\. 

The sad morning of parting- came. We sat down to a very 
early breakfast — the last we were ever all to eat together. This, 
of course, we did not know; yet we felt that it might be so. 
Frank sat between Ellen and his mother. I followed father's 
example in an effort to be cheerful myself and to make the rest 
so; without much success, however. Breakfast over, Frank 
arose to bid us all farewell. I will not attempt to describe that 
parting scene. It was so terribly sad that its memory haunts 
me to this day. Frank was no sooner out of sight than poor 
Ellen, who had held up all through with such heroic courage, 
now gave way and dropped into a death-like faint, from which 
she recovered only to relapse into another and another. Then 
came prostration, and in the afternoon of that day a burning 
fever, in which she lay for three long days between life and 
death. Aunt Mary and mother watched and nursed her day and 
night, by turns, and at length life, health and spirits all came 
back, slowly but surely, until Ellen was herself once more, 
cheerful and hopeful, if not wholly happy. 



CHAPTER V. 



SICKNESS — SUSAN MABSH, THE NURSE. 

In six months after Frank left, I also went to California and 
established myself in business in San Francisco. Frank's suc- 
cess in California was all that any one could desire. In fact, 
every speculation he touched seemed to turn into gold in his 
hands. He made money for Philips & Moneks by tens of 
thousands. Every week he wrote to Ellen long, loving and al- 
ways interesting letters. Her credit at our house in Philadelphia 
was, by his orders, unlimited, and so the year wore away; but, 
at its close, Frank found it almost impossible to wind up his 
business and return to Philadelphia as he had intended, so he 
sought and obtained Ellen's consent to remain one year more. 
In the following March he was taken most dangerously sick. He 
occupied the upper part of his store as a dwelling, as was so 
common with us all in California to do at that time. His book- 
keeper and clerks also lived with him, but slept in a room back 
of the office on the first floor. They had a Chinese boy for 
cook, so they lived comfortably, for Calif ornians. When Frank 
fell sick the clerks and Mr. Neil, the bookkeeper, took turns in 
nursing him, and, though kind in their dispositions, they made 
very indifferent nurses; besides, they had not the time to spare 
from the business that it was necessary to give to Frank's sick- 
room. He grew worse and worse every day, until all became 
alarmed for his life. He wandered in his mind, and became un- 
conscious of all around him. Mr. Neil now undertook to find a 
nurse, but for love or money none could be had. The attending 
physician then undertook to procure one, and did so. Ho intro- 
duced a young woman, Susan Marsh, as nurse. She was hand- 
some, bright, neat and kind in her manner, and proved a most 
excellent nurse. There was nothing in her way of acting that 
gave the bookkeeper the least right to suppose that she was one 

of the unfortunates in character who were then, as now, numer- 
IG 



242 HONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 

ous in California. In those days it was often, as in the present 
instance, found impossible to procure nurses for the sick, and 
unthinking physicians sought, and frequently found, them in 
houses frequented only by the reckless and abandoned of both 
sexes. To such a house had Doctor Taylor resorted and found 
Susan Marsh, who now nursed Frank with the kindest care. 
Three long weeks Frank lay unconscious of all around him, or 
of those who cared for him. 

On Monday morning, three weeks from the day on which she 
had undertaken her task, Susan Mai'sh arose from her sofa-bed in 
the little room adjoining Frank's. She had watched late the 
previous night, and as a consequence slept late. The morning 
sun was beaming into both rooms full and bright. After a mo- 
ment spent at her toilet, she walked with quick, noiseless step 
through the half-open door leading into Frank's room. Then 
she looked anxiously towards his bed. There was something, it ap- 
peared to her, unusual in the way Frank lay. She advanced \vith 
the same cautious, soft step to the bedside; then, bending over 
him, a smile of triumjDh played on her lips as she recognized a most 
happy change in her patient. Frank was evidently in a sweet, 
calm sleep. Thanks to her handiwork, everything on and about 
him was as neat and white as the driven snow. He was half on 
his side and half on his back, the bed-clothes partly thrown off. 
His arms extended so as to give jierfect freedom to his great 
chest as it rose and sank just i^erceptibly, indicating a sleep that 
was sui'ety restoring health and strength. Then a smile, just 
such as we see on the face of a dreaming infant, passed over his 
countenance. It told as plainly of returning life as the first ray 
of the morning sun assures us that another day has come and is 
ours. As Susan Marsh continued to bend over him, she ex. 
claimed, half to herself : " Oh, how handsome ! What a 
splendid looking man ! And it is I who have saved his life !" 

Then, softly removing his clustering brown hair from his white 
forehead, she imprinted on it a passionate kiss. The sleeper 
started, and, half awakened, raised one arm as if in search of 
something; then murmured in an indescribably tender tone: 

" Yes, my darling Nellie; I am better." 

In an instant Susan was at her full height; she flushed scarlet 
to her forehead, then as quickly became deadly pale. Her lips 
quivered and her frame shook as if a pang of bitter agony had 
pierced her through. Frank had again sunk into his life restor- 



PIOKEER times in CALIFORNIA, 243 

ing sleep, and Susan hastily returned to her room. She closed 
the door as she entered, threw herself into the cane-bottom rock- 
ing chair that stood near the nursery fire, and, letting her head 
fall backwards to find rest, she clasped both her hands tightly 
over her eyes. For five minutes she remained motionless, seem- 
ing scarcely to breathe. Then, without removing her hands, with 
a half-suppressed moan, she dropi^ed her head forward so as to 
rest it on her knees. Then, suddenly she started to her feet, and 
drew from her bosom three unopened letters. She read the ad- 
dress over slowly, "Frank Harvey, Esq., Merchant, S , 

California." "While she did so, there was a bitter, contemptu- 
ous smile on her face that gave her dark eyes a wild, fierce 
look. 

"Yes," she said, speaking to herself. " They are from hei — he 
shall never see them. Let me see," she continued, "what the 
loving wife, who is too careful of herself to come to such a place 
as California, has to say to her far-off husband. I suj^pose she 
pretends to love him ever so much. Oh, you ' California widows,' 
as they call you back in the States, you are so fond of your ease 
and your own comfort that you forget what the meaning of the 
word wife is. You poor, miserable, creatures! you have no 
claim now to the husbands you refused to stand by in this their 
great struggle for fortune and for fame. No! you are a con- 
temi:)tible set. You are not true American women. You are not 
true wives! even if it is /, an outcast, who tell you so, and all 
of you, who remained at home by your own desire, deserve all 
the miseries and woe that is in store for hundreds and hundreds 
of you." 

As she was speaking, she tore open the letters and read them 
all through. AVhile she did so, she changed her position from 
standing to sitting, and again from sitting to standing; some- 
times walking the floor with hurried steps. As she concluded 
the last letter, she walked directly to the fireplace, stirred up the 
red coals, and with a sort of impatience pitched the letters on 
them. As they blazed up high, she shook her clenched hand at 
them, saying fiercely: 

"Yes; burn, you letters of a California widow; the 

meanest thing living on earth. You talk beautifully of your 
love for him. Why were you not here to do what I have done? 
Watch by his sick-bed all through those dark, lonesome nights, 
without one to relieve or help me. Yes! and the lonely days, 



214 PIOXEEE TDIES DC CALIFOEXIA. 

too; for I have not seen the outside of this house for three long 
weeks." 

As she ran on, a maniac frenzy seemed rising in her face : 
" Oh!" she cried, with an imploring voice, as she clasped both 
her hands above her head as high as she could reach, " why am 
I not some good, honest man's wife ? I care not what his calHng 
or occupation might be. I would love and honor him; I would 
go to the ends of the earth with him; I would never leave him 
for a week, but work, work and struggle and struggle for our 
mutual happiness as no woman ever did before. Oh! how 
happy that would make me. But now, but noic," she repeated, 
throwing herself into the rocking-chair, while she covered her 
eyes again with both hands with a grasp so tight that it appeared 
as if she was trying, by main force, to forever shut out the sight 
of some terribly hideous object. "Oh!" she half groaned the 
words aloud, ■■' do what I will, I cannot shut out the vision of 
my dark life, and I am compelled to g;o on, on: for society," here 
her voice was filled with bitter sarcasm, "Christian society, they 
call it, allows the erring woman no returning path; but they are 
liars," she said, with energy, " when they say Christian society, 
for did not the Savior of the world forgive Magdalen ? Yet there 
is none who will reach out a hand and show me a returning road; 
so on , on I must go." Suddenly removing her hands from her 
eyes, she sprang wildly to her feet, exclaiming, as she looked all 
around her: " "Who spoke '? Whose voice was that I heard ?" 
Then, seeming to recollect herself, she sank back into the chair 
and continued, in a subdued voice, while she broke into sobs and 
weeping: '• Oh, I know who it was that called me, his voice 
is ever coming back to me; it was my poor brother Thomas, who 
came all the way from Boston to find me, and persuade me to 
return with him, and who was shot dead by that ruffian. Bed 
Dick, at ' Hang Town," just because he saw him seated neai" me 
and supposed him to be his rival. "Well, the miners hung Dick 
before my face while my brother's body was yet warm. The 
whole thing cost me a temble fit of sickness, and now whenever 
I get one of those fits I hear Tom, oh, so plainly, calling, calhng 
me to come home. Home!" said she, again growing wild, and 
springing to her feet. ' ' "Who talks of home ? I have no home ! 
I say I have no home!" she repeated, stamping her foot and 
shaking her clenched hand as if in fierce contradiction to some 
one. 



pioNTXE innis rs" cajLitoexii. 245 

Just as she made this exclamation, the door leading to the 
stairway opened, and a colored man, with a bundle of clothes 
carefully held in his hands, appeared. This was '• Black Bob/' 

a man well known at that time in S , whose wife was the 

best washerwoman in all that town. Bob was remarkably in- 
telligent, industrious and well liked by all who had occasion for 
his services. He had been acquainted with Susan Marsh, and 
knew her history, and was now bringing the washed clothes nec- 
essary for Frank's room, and also Susan's own. As he entered, 
she sprang toward him, holding her hand up as if she wotild 
strike him, almost screaming out : 

*•' I say, did you say I had a home, when you knew it was 
falser' 

" Oh, Missa Susan, do not take on so, for the Lord's love," 
said Bob, in a coaxing tone; but, not heeding him, she ran on, 
hi.ssing the words through her half-closed teeth into his face : 
" Tou know I have no home. You know that I am a miserable 
outcast — despised, insulted and hooted at by the very men that 
made me what I am." 

Bob tried to soothe her by some kind words, while he hur- 
riedly laid the returned washing on the little table near him, 
when suddenly Susan's eye caught the sight of a folded dress 
that Bob had carefiiQy laid alongside the clothes. 

"What is this you have brought me?" she exclaimed, in a 
frenzy of passion, as she darted toward and seized the gar- 
ment. 

"Oh, Missa Susan, that is the beautiful dress you left with 
Mrs. Weaks, the dressmaker, to be altered for you, and she 
gave it to me to bring to you. Oh, do not spoil it," 

As Susan now shook it out to its full length, nothing could 
exceed its beauty and richness. Its cost was evidently up in the 
hundreds. The sight of it seemed to frenzy the girl beyond all 
control She tried to tear it into pieces, and, failing in strength 
to do that, she cast it on the floor and danced on it, all the time 
uttering imprecations on the person who had given it to her, 
whoever he was. Then, snatching it up, she cast it into the 
fire, exclaiming, while stirring it up with the poker: 

" Yes; bum, burnl I wish I had him here to bmn with his 
miserable gift." 

As the last shred of the beautiful garment turned into a gauzy 
cinder, she sank back into the rocking-chair, apparently almost 



246 PIONEEE TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 

in a swoou — her head, with eyes closed, resting sideways on the 
back of the chair, while her arms fell listlessly by her side. 

Bob stood a little way off, watching her closely. " Ah," said 
he to himself, as he quitted the rooms, " the fit is now over. I 
have often seen such with these poor creatures, but that is one 
of the worst I ever saw. Oh, poor thiny, you have a ' home,' 
and it is nearer to you, I am thinking, than you look for, and it 
is just six feet long and two feet wide. Poor, poor creature!" 

After some minutes, Susan seemed to awake, as from a sleep. 
She opened her eyes, yawned, sat upright, pressed one hand 
over her forehead, and gazed thoughtfully a moment into the 
fire. Then said, in a quiet, calm voice: 

" I believe I have been making a fool of myself, but the vile 
fit is over. I must now prepare myself, for he will soon be 
awake, and I must be ready to attend to him." 

As she spoke, she walked over to her wash-stand and bathed 
her face and nearly her whole head for some minutes in cold 
water. 

" Now, I feel like myself again," she exclaimed, while she 
commenced to dress herself with the utmost care, taking far 
more pains than she had any day since she had become Frank's 
nurse. She looked in the glass, and was evidently pleased with 
herself ; and, in fact, she did look very handsome, as she had 
dressed herself with the most becoming simplicity. Nor had 
she much resemblance to the wild, crazy girl of a few minutes 
before. 

" How do you like that, Mrs. Ellen Harvey ?" she said, as she 
smiled in the glass. " He is your husband, and you love him, 
you say. Well, so do I, and have /, who saved his life, no 
rights? We shall see; yes, we shall see, Mrs. Ellen Harvey. 
But know this, I am determined he shall not escape me; I shall 
stop at no artifice to win him and overcome his scruples. Sighs, 
tears and smiles shall all come in just in the right places." And 
then she added, while laughing almost aloud: "Yes; and then 
the devil himself will help me, for it is his work I am going to 
be about. Your letters, too, Mrs. Ellen Harvey, will give me 
some help, some idea of his character, without which, pev- 
haps, I should fail. Yes, Mrs. Ellen Harvey; before two 
months are over I will be the ' California Mrs. Harvey,' and then 
I will keep you quiet by getting him to send you plenty of gold. 
That is all you California widows want. You see I know your 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALEPORNU. 247 

class/' she said, again laughing. " When I will appear by his 
side as his California Mrs. Harvey, he will be no worse than so 
many others who do the same and show no shame. " 

Just then Frank awoke and called for a drink. Susan gave 
it to him, Avith the gentlest and most winning manners. He 
looked bewildered at her for some minutes, and, then, closing his 
eyes, he was fast asleep again. From this day forward Frank's 
recovery was rapid. The doctor explained to him that Susan 
was his nurse, and was high in his praises of her, telling Frank 
that to her he owed his life more than to himself. Frank, 
though very grateful, of course, to Susan Marsh, saw the impro- 
priety of her remaining longer with him; but, feeling secure under 
the shield of his devoted love for his wife, allowed himself to be 
over-persuaded both by the girl herself and the doctor. Frank's 
letter to Ellen will explain what followed. His appearance in 
San Francisco, sunk to the earth with sorrow, his sending me to 

S to dismiss the girl Marsh from his house, and his writing 

home to Ellen to come to California. He found an escort for 
her in a friend of his, a Mr. Dicks, who was returning to Phil- 
adelphia for his own wife. With bounding joy, Ellen responded 
to the sirmmons, and she is now in the steamer cabin in San 
Francisco waitincr for Frank's arrival from S . 



CHAPTER VI. 



MES. GABIT — THE 'WIFE S ANGUISH. 



After lunch, on the day of Ellen's arrival in San Francisco, I 
felt in fine spirits, and even Ellen appeared most happy. Re- 
collecting some business requiring my attention, I excused my- 
self to her, saying I would be back at five o'clock, and stay until 
Frank came. It appears I was not long gone when Ellen was 
surprised by a call from a Mrs. Gabit, a lady with whom she had 
a very slight acquaintance in Philadelphia. This Mrs. Grabit 
had come out to her husband about sis months before, and was 
living with him now in San Francisco. She was rather good- 
looking and stylish in her appearance, but was a talkative and 
silly woman. On seeing Ellen, she came forward in the most 
friendly aad familiar way, as though they had been dear old 
friends all their lives, and said: " Oh! dear Mrs. Harvey, I am 
so (y^acZ you have come. I declare you do look so beautiful! As 
handsome as I ever saw you. Oh, yes; you did right to come. 
1 3bVix so glad J on have come. I assure j on 1 am. very glad you 
came. In fact, it was your duty to have come." 

She said this last with a meaning look. Ellen was at first 
only disgusted at her uninvited familiarity, but now she began 
to look at her with half-puzzled astonishment. 

"Thank you, Mrs. Grabit, for j^our beiug so very glad that I 
came. Of course, it was my duty, as you say, to have come 
when my husband sent for me.''^ 

" Oh; he did send for you, then. I told Mr. Gabit so, or that 
you never would have come. Yes; you did the best in coming, 
and I am so glad." 

" Really, Mrs, Gabit," said Ellen, in a haughty, but yet mod- 
erate tone, "I do not understand you, or why you should ex- 
press yourself so very glad at my coming." 

"Oh, well! dear Mrs. Harvey, I only speak for your own 
good. Men in California, you know, are not to be trusted when 
their wives are away. I know that from my own sad experience." 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 249 

Ellen now rose to her feet and full height, and, with her bright 
eyes flashing almost fire, while her voice was steady and full of 
scorn in its tone, said: "Madam, if you come here to intimate 
anything against the honor of my husband, I will tell you that 
your insolence is only surpassed by the falsehood of the insinua- 
tion you wish to throw out, and that your further presence is 
most disagreeable to me." 

"■ Oh, ho! you are assuming great airs about your husband, 
Mrs. Harvey," said Mrs. Gabit, also rising to her feet. " Well, 
I will just tell you, that he is no better than mine and other 
women's husbands here in California." 

" Leave my presence, wretched woman!" said Ellen, in a voice 
of fierce command, as she stepped one step forward and stamped 
her slender foot on the cabin floor. 

" Yes; I will go, Mrs. Harvey, but first I will just tell you that 
you are making a fool of yourself for nothing, for your husband 

did live with a woman in S as his wife. My husband knows 

all about it. When I came here I did not intend to tell you, 
but you made me do so by your passions. So now make the most 
of it." 

As she said the last words, she was standing on the cabin stair- 
way, and in a moment was out of sight. At first, Ellen remained 
fixed to the spot where she stood, as if bound by a spell; then 
both her hands with a sudden nervous movement clasped her 
forehead, as if she sought to steady her brain. Katie, who had 
been present and had heard with terror all that had been said, 
now sprang to Ellen's side, and, throwing her arms around her, 
exclaimed : 

"Oh, dear Mrs. Harvey, it is all false; I know it is false. She 
is only trying to make every one's husband as bad as her own. ' 
You will see it is all false. Come, come," continued Katie, "sit 
down here near me. You must not mind the horrid woman. I 
know it is false. Think of how good Mr. Frank always was. 
He v/ould not think a wrong act, let alone do one." 

Ellen did as Katie asked her; she sat by her on the sofa and 
leaned her head on her shoulder. She was as pale as death, and 
trembled from head to foot. Katie continued to talk of the 
absurdity of all Mrs. Gabit had said. 

" You are right, dear Katie," said Ellen, at length. " I know 
it must be that it is, as you say, all false; but the woman has 
frightened me terribly. Oh, how shall I hold out until he 



250 PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFOKNIA. 

comes, or, oh, Katie, how will I meet him and be in any doubt? 
For," she continued in a low, half-choked, hesitating whisper, " if 
it loere true, I could not even touch him ever again." 

As she uttered the last words, she started to her feet, and, 
grasping Katie by the hand said, wildly: " Katie, I say I know 
it is false. You said you knew it was false. Oh, Katie! say so 
again, or I cannot wait for him to come." 

Katie was terribly frightened, and again threw her arms around 
the form of the agitated girl, and, drawing her close to her 
bosom, she exclaimed: 

" Oh! m}' dear, dear Miss Nellie, for the love of Heaveu be 
calm, and do not give way in this frightful manner. " 

It was a long time since Ellen had heard that old familiar ad- 
dress, which Katie had used in her fright, — "Miss Nellie." It 
seemed to Ellen, somehow, as if it was a messenger from the 
past — the happy past — to assure her of Frank's innocence, and, 
yielding to the sweet thought, she threw herself back on the 
sofa, and, leaning forward, with her handkerchief over her face, 
found relief in a flood of tears. In a little time she became 
calm, and apparently lost in thought; then said, half aloud, 
as if talking to herself : 

" I must know before he comes." 

She rose, and with composed step and manner, walked to her 
writing desk, sat down and wrote the following note: 

My dear hiisband, how shall I dare •write what I sit down to write? Yet, I 
must do it. The horrid woman, Mrs. Gabit, has just been here. She in- 
sulted me in the grossest manner by insulting you, ever and ever loved dar- 
ling husband. Before I could drive her from the steamer cabin, which I was 
trying to do, she boldly slandered you, by saying — forgive me, darling hus- 
band for writing it — that you lived with a woman in S., as your wife. I 
know, my husband, that there cannot be even a shadow of foundation for 
the terrible falsehood, and now that I have told it to you, just throw this 
note in the fire and come to yoiir wife. Never mention this note or the slan- 
derous statements, or the woman Gabit. I do not want yoa to demean your- 
self by any contradiction. All I want for a contradiction is your coming to 
me, your silence on the subject, and your opening your arms for me to fly 
to. This will be all the denial I ask for or wish for. But, Frank! Oh, my 
God! if the horrid creature should have told truth, never, never! let us meet 
again in this world. One sight of you, in that case would kill me where I 
stood. But, why does my pen write such horrid language? I hate it for 
doing so, when I am so sm-e the woman spbke a malicious falsehood. 
Come, come to me, Frank, as I have told you, and let me find rest and calm 
within yonr folded arms, for your wife is frightened within in her heart. You 
will fiud me just as you left me, your faithful, loving and devoted wife. 

Ellen Hakvei . 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 251 

When she had fiuished the note, she folded it -with sudden 
haste, as if she wished to get it out of sight ; put it in an en- 
velope, and addressed it, " Frank Harvey, Esq., present." She 
then handed it to Katie in the same hurried manner, and told 
her to give it to me on my return, and request me to meet 
Frank on board the river-boat, and deliver it to him, and to say 
to me, or any one who asked for her, that she was not well, and 
was resting in her stateroom. I was surprised when Katie gave 
me this message and the note, but did not, just then, attach 
much importance to it, so I told Katie to say to cousin Ellen, 
that I would be back at half-past nine o'clock with Frank. 
Just as I was leaving the cabin, Katie whispered to me, " Wait 
on deck until I come." I did so, and when she came she told 
me all that had x)assed between Ellen and Mrs. Gabit. While 
Katie spoke, she cried and sobbed bitterly, and I found my own 
eyes were not dry. " But," said Katie, hesitatingly, and look- 
ing at me imploringly, " If it is a lie, all will be as well as ever.'' 
I turned my head away from her, and made no answer to her 
questioning voice. 

"Oh! merciful God, it is then true," exclaimed Katie. 

With all the voice I could command, I said: "Not as bad^ 
Katie, as that wretch of a woman said, for it was only for a 
week, and then there were extenuating circumstances, but I 
fear Cousin Ellen will never see any to excuse, and will be unable 
to forgive. Heaven and earth ! " I ran on in excitement, "I do 
not wish that woman Gabit harm, but would it not have been 
most delightful if she had broken her neck, as she was coming 
on board the steamer? " 

" It would, indeed," sobbed poor Katie, with hearty empha- 
sis; " though, of course, I know it is not right to wish any one 
harm, but I cannot help feeling as you do, Mr. Philips." 

The river-boat came in at its usual time, and I met Frank 
as he stepped on the wharf. As I shook hands, I said: "The 
steamer is in, and Ellen is here." 

" Thank God ! she is safe. Is she perfectly well?" said 
Frank, taking my arm, and walking on with me in the direction 
of my store in Sansome street. 

" Perfectly; and looks more beautiful than ever." 

We spoke no more until we were alone in my back office. 
Throwing himself in a chair, Frank said: 

" Henry, before I see her, she must know all." 

" I supposed that would be your course," said I, handing 



252 PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 

liim Ellen's note, and relating to laim what Lad taken place be- 
tween her and Mrs. Gabit. While I did so, he buried his face 
in his hands, and seemed bowed down with overpowering 
grief. Then overcoming himself, he wiped away all signs of 
his weakness, saying: 

" Forgive me, Henry; you shall see no more of this. I have 
a man's work before me, and I will meet it like a man." 

He then read Ellen's note with comparative composure, saying, 
as he handed it back to me to read: 

" Noble girl! it is my inevitable sentence, but it is only what 
I told you I had to expect. Her angelic purity of feeling will 
be shocked beyond recovery." 

I read the note, and then asked him what was to be done, 
and went on to tell him that I had done as he directed, and 
engaged rooms at the Union Hotel. This was, by far, the 
finest hotel then in San Francisco. It stood at the corner of 
Kearny and Merchant streets, opposite the Plaza. After a pause, 
Frank said: 

" To you, Henry, I must now leave all. Tell me what you 
advise." 

I then told him to write a short note to Ellen, just to request 
her to go with me and take possession of her rooms at the 
Union, until she was calm enough to hear what he had to say 
in his defence. 

He wrote as I advised, and I left him in wretchedness, walk- 
ing up and down my office, while I went on my sad and most 
painful mission, to take part in and witness a scene which it is 
even now terrible for me to recall. 

As the hour came for my return to Ellen with Frank, who can 
paint the misery of her feelings! To her, more than life a hun- 
dred times hung upon the response to her note. Minutes were 
hours to her now — an hour was a year. She could not sit nor 
stand, nor stay in any one position. She knelt to pray with 
Katie, but with every footstep on the deck her heart would leap 
to her throat and almost suffocate her. Oh! who has ever stood 
waiting for news that was to be to them tidings of great joy or 
of deep sorrow, and not sickened and grew faint at the delay! 
At length she heard my step and knew it well, but it was not the 
step her heart was listening for. Pale and trembling, she started 
to her feet, and advanced to the middle of the cabin. As I ap- 
peared, she said at once: 



I 



tlONEER TIMES IN CALIE'OEXIA. 253 

"Frank! He has not come? The boat is not in yet, per- 
haps ?" 

Confused and hardly knowing what to do or say, I mechan- 
ically reached her Frank's note. In an instant she sprang for- 
ward, and, without taking the note, seized me by the collar with 
both hands; then looking me full in the face, with intense 
earnestness, she cried out, almost in a scream : 

" Henry Philips, is Frank Harvey, my husband, in San Fran- 
cisco, and did he get my note ?" 

All I could answer was the terrible word: "Yes." 

Her hold on me relaxed, and leaning forward, with her hands 
tightly clasped before her, she continued for a moment longer 
to gaze in my face, as if, with a desperate effort, to find in its 
expression some ray of hope for her. Then an indescribable ex- 
pression of pain passed over her features. Hope, that sunlight 
of the human countenance in the darkest and dreariest hours, 
seemed gone from hers in an instant, and forever; and, as the 
dark shades of despair replaced it, she uttered a piercing cry, 
and fell to the cabin floor as lifeless as if death had come in re- 
ality to end her suffering. It was but the work of an instant to 
carry her to the sofa. There, with Katie's active aid, we did all 
that was possible to restore her to consciousness. 

The Captain, who had just returned on board, hearing the 
loud cry, came quickly to the cabin. I took him aside, and ex- 
plained matters as far as I thought necessary. He appeared 
deeply affected, and expressed the greatest sympathy. After 
awhile our effoii^s to restore Ellen were successful, and she now 
sat up on the sofa, and, looking all around her, seemed unable 
to ascertain where she was ; then, pressing her hand on her fore- 
head and bending her eyes downward for a moment, as if in an 
effort to collect her thoughts, she suddenly started erect and ex- 
claimed: 

' ' Henry ! Katie ! and the Captain ! all here ! What is the mat- 
ter? And where is Frank? Oh, Henry, tell me, tell me truly, 
what all this means? Have I lost my senses, or did that horrid 
woman really come here and tell me a detestable tale that is 
true?" As she spoke, a shudder seemed to pass through her 
frame. 

" Oh, dear cousin Ellen, be calm; be yourself. You know you 
always told me I was your brother, and God knows I loved you 
as dearly as ever brother loved a sister. Things are not as bad 



^54 PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFOENIA. 

as that woman told you. It is true, I cannot altogether clear 
Frank, but he is not deliberately guilty. He fell, but he re- 
covered himself almost immediately, and is now deeply peui- 
tent." 

"Wliile I spoke, Ellen's eyes were fixed on me. At the word 
penitent, she drew herself up to her proudest bearing. Kising 
to her feet, her eyes flashed almost flaming light, and, advancing 
a step or two, with her little hand clenched menacingly, she 
broke in: 

" Penitent! Who dares to talk of my husband heing jJenitentf 
Penitent?" she repeated, with a loud laugh of scorn that it was 
terrible to hear. " Penitent for AvhatV My husband, proud of 
his religion, proud of his honor, proud of the honor of his wife, 
mother and father, and of that of his whole race, now sinks to 
humility and penitence by a crime against the holy vow, made on 
bended knees before an altar he held sacred. No! no! It is im- 
possible! I tell 3'ou, Henry Philips, you are mistaken. I know 
you are mistaken. This penitent man you speak of is not my 
husband ; the Frank Harvey that I loved as woman never loved 
before, and in whose fidelity and truth I trusted with that faith 
and confidence that tolerates no apprehension or doubting. I 
want no ])enitent husband. I came here to meet the husband 
that, himself, from my childhood up, taught me to abhor false- 
hood and infidelity, as belonging solely to the infernal regions, 
and to love truth, purity and fidelity as heaven's choicest gifts 
and graces, and without which no man could ba noble, honor- 
able or great. Oh, tell me," she continued, clasping her tem- 
ples with her hands, "where that husband is? J)/?/ husband ? 
And let me fly to him to save, oh save, this aching brain.'' And 
again she threw herself on the sofa, with her face buried in her 
hands. 

It was impossible to hear her and witness her great suffering 
and control one's feelings, try ever so much. 

Katie sobbed as if her heart would break, and I did not act 
much better myself. 

The Captain sought to hide what he could not conceal, and left 
the cabin. I had a duty to perform, so I struggled for com- 
posure. It was to do my best both for Ellen and for Frank that 
the circumstances would pei'mit; so, summoning all my resolu- 
tion, I took my seat on the sofa, and, taking Ellen's hand gently, 
I said: 



1 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALII*ORNIA. 255 

" Darling Nellie, listen to me, your own loved brother." 

Before I could proceed she started erect in her seat and ex- 
claimed : 

' ' Who called me ' darling Nellie'? Why ! that is the name he 
used to call me when I believed there was love and truth in his 
words, love and truth in all the world over wherever he and I 
stood together side by side. Yes; that is what he used to cull 
me in those days when music was no music to my ear if he was 
not there to hear it; when sounds of mirth and laughter were 
meaningless to me if his voice was not mingled with it; when the 
brightest sunshine was gloom itself if he was not with me to 
enjoy it. But," she continued, "the illusion is past forever. 
The world looks one dark valley in Avhich there is no love, no 
truth, no virtue nor honor; nothing but crime, treachery and 
deceit; and in which there is nothing left to make it endurable 
to live in. So, never let me hear that name he used to call me, 
and which was so dear to me before I awoke from my foolish 
dream of worldly happiness, into which it helped to cheat me." 

Then changing her manner to a painful calmness, she turned 
towards me, and, with an unnatural air of self-possession, con- 
tinued : 

"Now, Cousin Henry, what do you want me to do? I will 
hear you through, although my mind is made up." 

Shocked as I was at the evidently unsettled state of her mind, 
I saw the great necessity of her leaving the steamer at once. 
I did not again present Frank's note, but told her of the rooms 
at the Union Hotel, where she would be wholly undisturbed, 
and alone with Katie, and used every argument in my power 
to induce her to go at once, and take possession of them. It 
was all of no avail. She declared her intention of remaining on 
board until the return steamer for Panama should be ready to 
receive passengers . Then she would take her passage and re- 
turn to PhiladeljDhia. Finding it impossible to move her resolu- 
tion, I left her for the night with Katie, and returned to Frank. 
He insisted on my repeating every word she uttered, and for a 
description of the whole scene, although its relation cost him 
the bitterest agony, and sometimes almost cries of anguish. 
After ho became more calm, I told him that Ellen had demanded 
the necessary funds to make all her arrangements for a 
return voyage. AVe then settled that I should again see her 
in the morning, and agree to her return, provided, she at once 



256 PIONEER TIMES IN CALEFOENlA. 

•went to her rooms at the Union, and that I should promise to 
find some suitable escort, and a servant instead of Katie, whose 
engagement of marriage would, of course, prevent her return. 
I told Frank that if we succeeded in getting her to the Union, 
I was not without hope. She might be induced to change her 
mind. Frank looked at me with a sad, helpless smile, and said: 

" Never! You do not half know her, Henry, if you have any 
such idea. However, hopeless as I know and feel the effort will 
"be, yet I am compelled by feelings I cannot, even if I would, 
control to make this effort, and leave nothing undone to bring 
to it success. Oh, my God!" he continued, " what will become 
of me if she leaves mthout seeing or forgiving me. I am, as 
she says, humbled to the dust, and, I trust in God, truly joeni- 
tent, also. Henry," he went on in a low, subdued voice, "I 
want you to do all you can for me, for I believe even life hangs 
on the result of your efforts." 

By half-past 8 in the morning I was again with poor Ellen. I 
found her in that same cold, calm, unnatural mood in which I 
had left her the night previous. 

Katie, who met me on the deck, told me she had neither wept 
nor slept all night, nor had she tasted food, nor had she alluded, 
she said, to her troubles in any way, except to speak once 
or twice of her immediate return to Philadelphia as a settled 
thing. 

"Oh!" said Katie, "if she would only cry and talk of her 
troubles; but not a tear has she shed since you came back last 
night without Mr. Harvey. Something must be done to bring 
her back, for I know she cannot go on in this way." 

I was much of Katie's opinion, and felt greatly alarmed at this 
state of Ellen's mind. I had hardly taken my seat by her when 
she demanded what I came for, and if I had brought the funds 
she asked for with me. She sat near the table, with one arm 
resting on it, with which she supported her head, while her large 
eyes were fixed on my face with a half-vacant gaze. I evaded 
her question, and went on to talk of such things as I thought 
might touch her feelings. Finding that nothing I had said 
moved her in the least, I went on to try the effect of talking di- 
rectly of Frank. I told her of the deception used by the doctor 
who attended him in his sickness, in the matter of the nurse, 
while Frank was unable to act for himself, and began a state- 
ment of the case, as I understood it. 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 257 

Wliile I spoke I could not see the least clumga in her ex- 
pression of countenance, but once I thought her lip slightly 
curled, as if in contempt, when I was speaking of the artfulness 
of the nurse; but, if this was so, it passed off in a moment. I 
then went on to conclude by saying: 

" Now, Fi'ank says if you cannot bring yourself to see him, 
all he asks is that you will go Avith me to the Union, and, 
when there, read over his written statement of all that has 
passed, and then if, at the end of the twelve days that are to in- 
tervene between this and the departure of the next steamer, you 
still wish to return, he will provide you with a good escort, a 
good female attendant, and, of coui'se, all the funds you want 
or ask for. Do not refuse him, Ellen, I implore you, because 
Frank feels that if this separation does take place it will be for 
all this life, and he demands, as a right, that you hear his state- 
ment* before yoA take the final step; and if you adopt thiscourse, 
he is sure that, if you cannot overlook the past and stay, you 
will at least pity and forgive him." 

From her countenance I could hardly judge whetJier she 
heard or understood a word I had said. But when I had stopped 
speaking, without moving her position, she said, in a con- 
temptuous tone, and with a bitter half-smile on her lip: 

" Go back, Cousin Henry, and tell that person who sent you 
here that I do not even know who he is. He is not my husband, 
I know, for my husband never could have had an occasion to ask 
any one to forgive oic pity him; and if that woman Gabit's story 
of my husband was true, he would despise me if it was possible 
for me to stay and overlook the past, as you talk about. No!" 
she continued, with high animation; " in that case, Frank Har- 
vey would know that there was a horrible gulf opened between 
us, at our very feet, that never could be passed in this world, 
and he would despise the wife of his that would attempt to pass 
it. No, Henry; you see you cannot deceive me. I want no 
favors from any one. I will make my own arrangements, and 
one is never to step on California soil. Good-bj^, Henry," she 
continued, rising from her seat. "If we meet again, let it be 
at our old home in Philadelphia." 

As she said this and left the cabin, there was inexpressible 
sadness and woe in her face. 

Sick at heart, I remained for a moment in my seat, at a loss 

how to manage or what to do. 
17 



258 PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 

Katie just then came in, and it occuiTed to me to have her try 
what she could do. I told her the first great object was to get 
Mrs. Harvey to leave the steamer, and that she must put her wits 
to work to make her go to the Union Hotel. She promised to 
do her best; so I returned to my office, where I found waiting 

for Frank a friend of his from S , a Mr. Leet, to whom 

he had confided his present troubles. He was Frank's sincere 
friend, and sympathized, I have no doubt, sincerely with him in 
ail this matter. Mr. Leet was rich, and, as the world goes, a 
very good sort of a man. Nevertheless-, his notions on morality 
were of that low cast so terribly universal nowadays. He saw 
no sense in Frank's ideas on the subject, and much less in 
Ellen's. He thought the " game," as he expressed it to me, was 
all in Frank's own hands. 

"Tfhen he received that note from his wife," said he, " telling 
him to come to her if Mrs. Gabib's story was fa^se, and that she 
would never say another word about it, he should have gone, 
and, after a week or so, told her the truth, for fear any busy-body 
would do so. She could not then back out on any such silly 
pretence as she h now setting up." 

It was as much as I could do to restrain my indignation at 
hearing my loved cousin's conduct commented on or questioned 
by a man who could neither ai)preciate nor comprehend a char- 
acter like hers. However, I acted with Mr. Leet as I do with 
all men whose ideas on morality are squared by the same lov/ 
standard that I knew his to be — I neither argued nor found 
■fault with him. I knew, too, that it was not from any disrespe-ct 
to his friend's wife that he spoke as he did. I therefore merely 
said that it would be well not to make such a remark as that to 
Frank. 

"Oh, no," said he; " it is too late now. He held the four aces, 
but had not the courage to play them boldly, and lost his ad- 
vantage, so that the game is up, and I will not pain my friend 
Frank by finding any fault with him." 

Just then Frank joined us, and I gave the result of my visit 
to Ellen; and then we began to discuss what had best be done, 
when I was called by one of my clerks to say that Katie was in 
my store and wished to speak to me. We at once admitted her 
to our council. She told us that, after I had left the steamer, 
Ellen had become very much excited, and would listen to nothing 
from her. That, after awhile, the Captain coming in, Ellen ap- 



i 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 259 

pealed to him, that in case her cousin and husband refused her 
the necessary means of carrying out her design of at once re- 
turning home, if he would not accept her own draft on her 
uncle's house in Philadelpliia for her passage, and permit her 
to remain Vvhere she was until the steamer was ready to receive 
passengers. Katie understood the Captain to consent, and 
thought it best to let me know. 

As ELatie made this aiinotincement, Frank sprang to his feet, 
and, confronting her, said, almost fiercely: "Consented to 
have her stay on board the steamer, and accept her own draft, 
did you say ? Are you sure you heard this ?" 

Katie became very pale, but said: " Yes, sir; I think that was 
what I heard." 

"Great Gi-od! What does this mean?" said Frank, as he 
turned from Katie, with increased agitation. 

Since Katie's entrance, Leet was standing, smoking a cigar, 
with his back to the stove, one foot on his chair, his right elbow 
resting on his knee, while he supported his chin with his fore- 
finger and thumb. To Frank's impassioned question he slowly 
said: 

" It explains matters to me, I think, so that I can understand 
them now ; which, I confess, I never did before. The Captain 
wants her to stay, and she is willing to stay. I see, I see." 

Leet, in his bent-over position, did not see what I saw; that 
Frank was adTaucing towards him, with his eyes flashing and 
every feature of his face rigid and pale with sudden passion. 
Leet had hardly uttered the last words, " I see," when a well- 
dii'ected blow from Frank's right arm felled him to the floor; 
Frank exclaiming, as he bounded on his fallen friend mth the 
fury of a madman: " Die, villain! die! You have dared to in- 
sinuate a foul slander against an angel of purity, my injured 
wife. " 

The noise and Katie's screams brought all my astonished em- 
ployees to the office; so that Leet was soon rescued from Frank's 
maddened clutch. His rescuers took him away, while I de- 
tained Frank by force in the office. I could not find it in my 
heart to be sorry for what had befallen poor Leet, and if Frank 
had not been there, I would not have let the language pass; at 
the same time, I felt well assured that Leet meant no offence. 
For some minutes after we were alone again, Frank continued 
to slride up and down the office. At length, ho asked me for 



260 PIOKEER TIMES IN CALIFOBNIA. 

pen and paper, sat down and wrote a note, which he addressed 
to the Captain. He told me that it was a challenge, and asked 
me if I would take it as his friend. I peremptorily refused, and 
did all I could to dissuade him from such a step: First, because 
I despised the whole code of dueling, and I knew Frank did 
also; and secondly, because I was sure the Captain, whom I knew 
to be a man of unblemished honor, could explain his conduct in 
the matter to our entire satisfaction. 

Frank, however, was not him&elf. He was in a wild excite- 
ment, and would listen to no arguments on the subject. When 
he found he could not move me, he left the office, and soon 
found a business friend, who took the challenge for him. 

The Captain was surprised and pained on receiving Frank's 
hostile note. He told the bearer to go back to Mr. Harvey, and 
tell him that he was always ready to defend his honor, and to 
give honorable satisfaction to all men to whom he had given just 
cause to demand it; but that, in this case, nothing on earth 
would induce him to meet Frank Hiu'vey. " First," said he, 
"because I have given Mr. Harvey no cause of offence, as I can 
show by the expLanation I will give of what has passed between 
Mi's. Harvey and myself; and secondly, because, if I meet Mr. Har- 
vey, it might, if that were possible, cast a shade on the unsul- 
lied purity of his wife. For these reasons I positively decline, 
let the results to me be what they may. Please say further 
that I shall at once call on my friend, Mr. Philips, as I ac- 
knowledge an explanation is necessary." 

After sending this message to Frank, the Captain came di- 
rectly to my office. He explained that, upon returning to the 
steamer soon after I had left, he found Mrs. Harvey in a state 
of the wildest excitement. That she had made what, of course, 
he considered an absurd demand on him. It was the same Katie 
had told us of. He said he acquiesced, without question or ar- 
gument, in all she said, fearing that, in her excitement, she 
would do herself some harm if refused or denied anything; 
that he was on the point of coming to my office himself to tell 
us of what had passed, when he was unexpectedly detained by 
business until ho got Frank's hostile note. If Frank and myself 
had been his brothers, and Ellen his daughter, he could not have 
shown more generous feeling and deep sympathy for us all than 
he did. 

Soon afterwards, when I made the explanation to Frank, hia 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 261 

generous nature hearlily regretted his hasty action, and he took 
an opportunity of making an ample apology to the Captain. The 
Cai^tain met him in a manly, frank spirit, and accepted the apol- 
ogy most graciously, telling him that he honored the feeling that 
led him into the mistake. 

As soon as the Captain left my office, I made up my mind to 
see Katie, and get her to tell Ellen the whole scene with Mr. 
Leet, which she had witnessed in my office; also, that Frank 
had challenged the Captain; and to urge her to at once leave the 
steamer to save further disturbance, and, perhaps, bloodshed, 
and the scandalous talk of the idle and worthless. 



CHAPTEE VII. 



ELLEN AND THE EEV. FATHER. 



Katie, comprehending my idea perfectly, without loss of 
time, sought Ellen, and found her in her state-room, seated near 
her berth, Avith both her arms thrown out before her on the 
pillow, and her head resting between them. Katie commenced : 

" Oh, dear, dear, Mrs. Harvey, we must leave this steamer at 
once. Such terrible things as have happened to-day, all because 
we remain here." 

Ellen did not speak or change her position, but, turning her 
head, looked at Katie, as a person does who is half awake, and 
trying to collect their thoughts so as to enable them to compre- 
hend what is said. 

Katie continued, and told all that had happened, and con- 
cluded by saying: " And Mr. Harvey has challenged the Cap- 
tain to fight him." 

" Who to fight?" exclaimed Ellen, starting from her reclining 
position, and from half lethargy to wild life, " "Who did you 
say was to fight?" 

Katie repeated what she had told of the challenge. 

" Frank to fight! No! no! he shall not fight. It is some plan 
to murder him. I say he shall not fight! Go, Katie, fly, fly to 
Cousin Henry, and tell him to prevent this terrible fight, and I 
will do anything he asks of me, but to meet him. Oh, God! I 
mean my husband; I cannot meet him. Henry must not ask 
me that. But go and say that anything else under heaven he 
asks, I will freely do." 

Then, while she walked the state-room floor with excited, 
feverish steps, she exclaimed, aloud: 

" Oh, father dear, I was your pet and darling! Oh, mother, 
sweet mother, I was your pride and comfort ! You left me long, 
long ago, a little child, to loving friends, and, you thought, to 
happiness; but, oh! how much better for me had I been taken 
with you, I would now be lying in a quiet little grave, between 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALITORNIA. 2G3 

you, safe from all this trouble and strife, hid away iu the long 
Winters by the jDure, white snow, and iu the bright Summers by 
tall grass and wild flowers, through which every breeze from my 
own native hills would murmur sad songs for my rest. Oh! had 
it been so, I never would have known of the falsehood and de- 
ception of the world." 

Then, turning to Katie, she continued: "Fly, Katie, fly, or 
my senses will leave me." 

Katie needed no urging to come with speed to me, nor I to 
return with her to poor Ellen. I put her mind to rest Avith re- 
gard to the duel, and she made no further objections to go with 
me to her rooms in the Union. I promised to find the escort, 
and have all in readiness for her return home, as she d'esired. I 
then communicated all that had taken place to Frank. The re- 
sult was a great consolation and relief to him. The next day, 
when I called at the Union, I found, from Katie's report, 
that Ellen remained in the same unnatural, listless state. She 
made no complaints; she took no notice of anything around her. 

When asleep, she seemed half awake; when awake she ap- 
peared half asleep. 

" But, worst of all," said Katie, " she will not now say any 
prayers, although all her life she has been so religious and de- 
vout. This morning I knelt near her to see if she would join 
me, and when I saw she took no notice of me as she walked by 
me, I began to cry; I could not help it; and then she stopped 
and took her handkerchief, and, stooping over me, wiped away 
my tears, and whispered to me in, oh, such a sad, lonesome 
voice: ' Poor Katie! you must not cry; there is nothing left in 
this world worth shedding tears for. ' Then she resumed her 
constant walk up and down the room. Oh! Mr. Philips, it is 
terrible to see her so. If she would only cry, the tears would 
bring her to herself. I have been," Katie continued, " to the 
Catholic Church in Vallejo street this morning, Avhere I went to 
confession and communion, and, after mass, I thought it no 

harm to talk with the Priest, Father L , as all the Catholics 

here say he is a perfect saint, about Mrs. Harvey ; but when I 
told him that she had a husband and a cousin here, he said they 
were the proper persons to speak to him of private family mat- 
ters, and that if they saw fit to do so, ho would do all he could for 
them, but otherwise he could not interfere. So 1 thought I 
would tell you what he said." 



264 PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFOENIA. 

I saw Katie's idea, and thought it a good one, so I went in 
search of Frank. When I met him he told me he had just re- 
turned from the Vallejo street church, where he had had a long 

talk with the good Priest, Father L , and that he had jDrom- 

ised to be at my office in an hour, with a good old father who 
had just arrived from Oregon, and who was, he said, a man of 
fine judgment and great iDrudence. At the appointed time 

Father L j)ut in an appearance, accompanied by his friend 

from Oregon, Father D . This Father D was a tall, 

fine-looking man, well advanced in years. He was evidently a 
man of the highest education and refinement. His countenance 
beamed with benevolence, and he was affable and courteous in 
manners, • His conversation was fascinating, and while it had 
something of the gentleness of a woman in it, yet it had all the 
strength, clearness and vigor of expression we claim as charac- 
teristic of our own sex. He was a Belgian by birth, and of a 
high and wealthy family in that country, and had served, when 
a youth, in an honorable capacity, near the joerson of the first 
Napoleon. He had of late been an associate of the famous In- 
dian missionary. Father DeSmet, in the mountain districts of 
Oregon, and was, at this time, suffering from a wound he re- 
ceived there. He was on his way to join Father Nobli, at Santa 
Clara College, which has since become such a splendid educa- 
tional institution. After a short acquaintance, we both felt that 
he was one on whose judgment we could rely without fear or 
question, and that if any one could move poor Ellen it would be 
this good father. He did not give Frank much hope of any im- 
mediate reunion. He said he thought he comprehended her 
character from all we had told him, and if he did, nothing but 
time and a deep, religious humility of feeling could ever overcome 
the shock her unbounded faith in her husband's honor and truth, 
and her sentiments of purity and delicacy of thought, had re- 
ceived. That all things were jjossible to God, and that Frank 
must not despair, but look forward with hope, but with resigna- 
tion, to the result of our efforts. It was then agreed that Father 

D and I should call to see Ellen that afternoon at four 

o'clock, and that all we should ask of her was to read a letter 
from Frank, giving a truthful statement of his life in California, 
and which should make no demand for a reunion, or even an in- 
terview, between her and Frank. This being settled, I then pre- 
pared Katie for the visit, and she, as far as she could, prepared 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 265 

Ellen. She found it, however, impossible to fix Ellen's ideas, 
or be sure that she even heard what she said. AVhen we arrived 
Katie showed us at once into Ellen's private parlor. As we en- 
tered, Ellen looked up from her half-reclining position on the 
sofa, and I, without ceremony, introduced the Rev. Father to 
her. For a moment her look was bent keenly on him, and then, 
mth a visible start, she turned to me saying, in a careless tone: 
" Henry, have you found the escort?" 

I told her not, but would in ample time. Then the Father 
made efibrts to draw her into conversation on indifferent sub- 
jects, but she seemed to avoid it; at the same time, however, she 
appeared to grow somewhat excited. At last, she addressed the 
Father directly herself, and said, with a smile and a tone in 
which there was evidently half contempt: 

" I suppose you are the pastor of this place, brought here by 
my good cousin to influence my conduct and get me to forgive 
my penitent husband. Yes, oh yes; a very good business for 
the Catholic pastor of San Francisco to come on, to see if he 
can get the wife to overlook the falsehood and dishonor of the 
husband, for his crime is not worth speaking of. I suj)pose," 
she continued, in a bitter, sarcastic tone, " it is only the breach 
of his marriage vows, made in the church, before the altar dedi- 
cated to the God he pretended to worship; that is all ; and it was 
not his fault, of course, if that wife did not know that those 
vows, and all the religious ceremonies attending them, were but 
a mocking show, intended to deceive the foolishly confiding and 
ignorant. No; of course it is not his fault if that foolish wife 
believed in God, believed in those vows as a truth, believed in all 
that that husband told her, with a faith that never thought or 
dreamed of a doubt. No; of course it was not his fault, and you 
have come to tell me so. I knew your errand before you came, 
and I intended not to utter a word in reply; but there is some 
mysterious connection between your voice and face — what it is 
I cannot imagine — with a terribly dark hour of my childhood, 
that I find compels me to speak; so I will spare you all the 
trouble of making an argument to me." 

She now seemed to give way completely to her heretofore 
half -suppressed excitement, and, rising from her seat, advanced 
a step or two towards the priest, Avhile she continued, with the 
same sarcastic tone of voice and bitter smile: "You wiyh to 
tell me what I know now — that the religion you have all your 



266 PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 

life been teaching is a lie. You want to say, also, that the idea 
that man is superior to the beasts of the field, is all nonsense; 
that, as I have made that discovery, I may as well conform my- 
self to this true state of things, and do as others do, and not be 
a foolish, obstinate woman. There; I have made your argu- 
ment; it is short, but it means all you wish to say to me, I am 
sure." 

As she ceased speaking, she threw herself back impatiently 
into her seat, and looked apparently for a reply. During all the 
time she had been addressing him, the Father continued to re- 
gard her with a look of mingled fear, sorrow and admir?,tion; 
and, when she had ceased to speak, he remained silent, and i 
saw that a tear stole down his cheek. 

Ellen waited a moment, and then said: " You came to talk 
with me, I know, and now you have nothing to say." 

" Dear lady," said the Father, " you have misconstrued my 
visit altogether. Neither am I the pastor of San Francisco. No; 
for the last thirty years of my life I have been on a mission with 
the red children of the mountains and the wilderness, and have 
only now left them through necessity of health, and in obedience 
to the call of my superior. I have nothing to give, nor favor 
to ask from living man. The morning of my life dawned as 
fair and bright as your own, my dear lady, could jDOssibly have 
been. My fortune was ample. The greatest Captain and mon- 
arch on tlie earth, of his time, was my friend; I had a loving 
father, and a dotingly fond mother, sisters and brothers, whose 
love was as pure and sincere as love on earth could be, and 
whose society was exquisitely delightful to me. But God was 
pleased to convince me that this world was not my true home, 
and to give me the grace to yield up my earthly home, friends, 
fortune, ambition, and all that appeared to me at first so bright 
and dazzling in this life, that I might take up the cross and find 
all, and hundreds of times more than all, again, in that country 
where sin, disappointment and sorrow are unknown; and, dear 
lady, I tell you truly, that I would not now, as my weary jour- 
ney draws to a close here, far away from all the friends I ever 
knew or loved in my childhood and boyhood, retrace the step I 
took, to be made the monarch of the earth, in the flush of my 
manhood. No, dear lady; I would not yield up the recollection 
of one year's labor with my red children of the Rocky Mountains 
for all the earth could bestow. Excuse me for saying so much 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 267 

of myself, but I did so because you appeared to misunderstand 
my visit, and to regard me unkindly. I came at the request of 
the good and pious Vicar-Greneral of San Francisco, who is an 
old acquaintance of mine, and also at the request of your cousin, 
to whom he introduced me; but I assure you, dear lady, that I 
meant no intrusion that would pain you in your deep sorrow, 
but with a faint hope that I might do or say something that 
would soothe, relieve or console you. Again, excuse me," he 
concluded, as he arose and bowed his adieu. 

In a moment, Ellen's whole manner changed. Her eyes and 
all her face lit up, as it were, with a light and glow. She clasped 
her hands in the attitude of supplication, and exclaimed: 

" I did not mean to be unkind. Stay, oh, stay! A wild fancy, 
a dream it may be, comes to my mind." Laying her hand on the 
priest's arm, and pressing it so as to turn him directly towards 
her, and, looking earnestly in his face, she continued: " OhJ 
no; I cannot be mistaken. Tell me, oh! tell me, if, years and 
years ago, you were not in my native town of Lancaster, in 
Pennsylvania, to collect aid for your red men; and, if so, have 
you no recollection, while there, of a dark and stormy night, in 
which you were called to administer the last sacraments to a 
lady dying of cholera, whose husband had died the day pre- 
vious ?" 

In astonishment, the priest replied : 

" Perfectly; and the brave little girl, who, kneeling, held the 
hand of her dying parent, and joined in all the prayers for the 
departing soul. Where is she ?" 

" Aye; and do you recollect that the dying mother placed your 
hand on that little giiTs head, and asked you to add your bless- 
ings to hers, and to pray with her that the child might go through 
the world safely and reach Heaven in the end, and that you knelt 
and said that prayer, while you laid both your hands on her 
head?" 

" I do, perfectly; and that was the mother's exact prayer; I 
recollect all now; she asked nothing but safety for her child in 
this world; all for the next." 

" Now," said Ellen, with a sort of triumphant look, "you, who 
had resigned your youth, fortune and all you held dear, and hid 
away your talents and education, without a murmur, among the 
wild savages, seeking nothing but God, prayed with fervent sin- 
cerity to (Jiat Gucl for an orphan child, and to-day every j)ossi- 



268 PIONEKR TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 

bility of happiness in this world has vanished from her, and is 
goue forever. The next world is revealed to her a blank, and 
then say, if you can, that your prayers and my angel mother's 
dying supplications Avere heard, /or I am that child!" 

Here she paused for a moment, while she struggled with some 
deep emotion. When she continued, her excitement rose nearly 
to frenzy, and there was something in the tone of her sweet 
voice, in the wild expression of her face and in her extreme com- 
manding personal beauty, as she stood confronting the old mis- 
sionary, with her arms across her breast, that gave her almost a 
supernatural appearance, and filled me with awe. I turned to 
the old man with hope, yet with fear that it was beyond his or 
human power to allay such fearfully aroused feelings. But one 
look on him reassured me, for there was a calm light in his coun- 
tenance and a confidence in his noble bearing, as he summoned 
all the energies of his soul to meet the evil spirit that seemed to 
fight for the possession of the beautiful being before him; for, as 
I looked on, I could not help feeling that the contest was be- 
tween good and evil, and that the old man relied not on his own 
strength or ability, but on some higher power, that he knew or 
felt could not fail him. 

" Now, good Father," she exclaimed, " as the red men called 
you, and as we all called you, explain, if you can, why that 
child 3'ou praj^ed for should be led through a childhood and girl- 
hood of unalloyed happiness, oh, so happy, that Heaven itself 
seemed scarce worth working for, for she seemed to be in it here 
on earth; oh, so happy in being united with a partner whose 
purity, truth and honor were so acknowledged by all, so believed 
in by the fond, happy wife that she felt to ask God, as a doubt- 
ing wife might do, to guard and keep him all that he was, would 
be a treason to the confidence she of right owed him; explain, 
if you can, I say, why all this joy should be given to that child 
you prayed for, apparently with no other object than when ia 
the zenith of this great bliss to dash her to the earth, dragged 
down by him who, as boy or man, never harbored a dishonest 
thought, or uttered a word or committed an act that would 
tarnish the honor of a boy at sport, or of a man among men; no, 
no; you cannot explain all this, but I can do so. It is this: That 
God you served did not hear you, and, sad as the discovery will be 
to you, I will tell you that you have spent all your life's labors 
in pursuit of a phantom, and this truth you may as well know, 



PIONEER TIMES IX CALIFORNIA. 269 

even if the discovery is made in the evening of your life. Know 
then," she continued, with uplifted hand, " that there is no sin, 
no crime, no dishonor, no falsehood in this world ; nor virtue, nor 
honor, nor goodness, nor truth, nor the hereafter they talk about. 
Ihere is no Hell, no Heaven, and I defy and deny the Being you 
call—" 

" Hold, hold, my child,'" exclaimed the old man, with a com- 
manding solemnity in his voice, while ho raised his hands to- 
wai'd Heaven above her head. " Do not, I conjure you in the 
Savior's name, utter the terrible blasphemy." 

Stopping the fearful sentence as the word " God " trembled 
unspoken on her lij)s, Ellen remained for a moment as if trans- 
fixed to the spot, with her gaze still wild and fixed on the mis- 
sionary. Instantly he dropped on his knees, and, in tones of 
the deepest supplication, repeated the Lord's Prayer, the HaiJ 
Mary, and then St. Bernard's prayer of "Remember," in which 
pious Catholics have such unbounded faith. Katie and I joined, 
without, I believe, our knowing that we did so. As the last words 
of the prayer passed the missionary's lips, Ellen uttered a low, 
sad cry that seemed to tell of unspeakable pain, and, falling upon 
her knees, with her face buried in her hands, gave way unrestrain- 
edly to gushing tears and sobs. Blessed tears! They came to 
allay and still the wild storm that was beating around her heart, 
as often do the rains of heaven the most stormy seas, when hope 
has almost left the brave mariner's breast. The Father did not 
rise, but, with bowed down head, commenced to give out the lit- 
any of our Savior, Katie and myself making the responses. 
What a feeling of pleasure thrilled to my heart when T distin- 
guished Ellen's sweet voice, interrupted by choking sobs, also 
joining us. I felt that her reason, at least, which had seemed to 
totter on its throne, was safe. As we arose from our knees, El- 
len wiped awa}' her tears, and, extending her hand to the mis- 
onary, said, calmly: 

" Rev. Father, I owe you much; much more than I can thank 
you for. Light has come when my mind was the darkest. And, 
as I look back, I see, clearly, how intolerable my pride must 
have been to the majesty of God. My dying mother's prayer, in 
which you joined, loas heard, and you have been sent to save me. 
Oh, yes! there is a good, a merciful God. There is a heaven 
worth all, and a thousand times more than it can be given me 
to suffer in efforts to reach it." 



270 PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 

Then, clasping lier bands and looking up, she continued : 

" Oh, God, accept my humiliation and the suffering of all my 
future life, which I freely offer in atonement for my pride, but, 
oh, grant, in Thy goodness and mercy, that he and I, whose 
lives have been so entwined on earth, may yet, both together, 
worship Thee in heaven." 

Then, addressing the missionary, she said: 

" What, Father, willj^ou have me do to make a beginning ?" 

" Nothing, my child, nothing, but to calm j'ourself and return 
thanks to God, and to Him alone, for thj mercy He has shown 
you this day, i)raying always for faith, streng li and courage." 

Then he added, hesitatingly: 

" I would also ask of you, as a great favor, when you can sum- 
mon the courage to do so, to read this letter, addressed to you 
by ycur husband." 

Ellen started back as if in terror, a tremor shaking her whole 
frame. 

" It is nothing, my child," continued the missionary, " but a 
statement of facts that it is your duty, I think, to read, that you 
may not think worse of your husband than he deserves. Charity 
calls on you for the sacrifice, my child." 

" And I must not shrink from the fii'st one of my new life, but 
may I not wait until I feel able?" said Ellen, in a voice that was 
almost inarticulate from emotion, while she reached her trem- 
bling hand for the letter. 

"Certainly," said the priest. " Take your own time and be 
calm. Farewell, my child; and may God bless and make you 
happy." 

As the missionary turned to leave, I reached my hand to Ellen. 
As she took it she looked in my face, saying: 

"Poor Henry, you have been weeping for me, too. Dear brother, 
but for you, what would have become of ma; kiss me, Henry, I 
feel so much, so much more happy." 

The Father took his way to Vallejo street, and, as he bid me 
" good'day," I saw that he had to make a strong effort to sup- 
press his emotion. I, full of thankfulness at the result of our 
mission, returned to my office. There I found Frank, looking 
pale and worn from intense thought and mental suffering. I 
would have avoided telling him more than the result of our 
visit. 

" No, no, Henry," said he; " you must not rob me of one word 



tlONEEfe TIMES IN CALIFORNU. 



271 



she spoke nor one look of hers that you can find language to 
portray, for the very agony their recital brings to my he-vrt, is 
dear to me, because it makes me feel as though I was sharing in 
her sorrow." 

Finding, as before, that it was impossible to avoid it, 
I gave him the full details. When I mentioned Ellen's dis- 
covery, that the missionary was the priest who had attended 
my aunt, Mrs. Stewart, in hor last sickness, Frank exclaimed: 
"Oh, Grod ! Thy hand is visible." This was his only interrup- 
tion. He listened to all with that calm, suffering endurance 
which brave and noble hearts can alone command, until I told 
him of her parting words, and of her grateful, sisterly kiss. Then, 
as if that had touched some new spring hid away in the recesses 
of his heart, and opened some fountain that it was impossible 
even for heroism itself to hold back or stem, he threw his arms 
around my neck, and, resting his head on my bosom, gave way, 
without control to deep, convulsive grief, like that which comes to 
an innocent child in real sorrow. For a moment we were both 
children again — away, far away in the past — but, soon recover- 
ing ourselves, we were once more ready and willing to combat, 
as men, the realities of life. 

Katie told me, the next day, that after the good Father and 
myself had left, Ellen called her and told her that she would 
like to go with her to church in the morning to early service. 
She then spent some hours before retiring in religious prepara- 
tion. 

In the morning Katie wished to order a carriage, but Ellen 
would not allow it, as she was anxious for a walk. So, wrapping 
warmly, at the dawn of the morning they were both on their 
way to St. Francis' Church, on Vallejo street. They reached it 
on time, and it was yet hardly light. There were, perhaps, some 
fifty persons in the church, all kneeling, and apparently wrapped 
in devotion. Near the altar there were two priests kneeling, with 
cloaks wrapped around them. Simple and plain as the Church 
of St. Francis then was, there was in this scene, at that dawning 
hour of the morning, something that brought to Ellen's sad heart 
a sweet and soothing consolation ; and she seemed to gather 
strength for her forward march through life, which looked to 
her, just then, so rugged and difficult to tread. They recognized 
the old missionary as one of the priests near the altar, and, at 
Ellen's wish, Katie stole up to him and requested him to go into 



27^ tlONEER TIMES IN CALIFORXIA. 

the confessional. He did so, and gave Ellen the opportunity 
she sought of obtaining his counsel and of making the necessary 
preparations for the approaching Holy Communion. After her 
communion, as she was returning to her place near Katie, her 
eyes rested on the figure of a man in the far-off corner of the 
church, on his knees, in devotion. His head was bowed down 
so that his features were not discernible. His person was 
enveloped in a cloak, and the light was yet dim in the church, so 
that it was impossible for her to recognize who the person was, 
and yet, as her glance caught the figure, she started as with an 
electric shock. Her limbs trembled and almost refused to sup- 
l^ort her. A sudden faintness dimmed her eyes, and had not 
Katie observed her wavering steps, and come to her aid, she 
must have fallen to the floor before she reached her seat. After 
some rest she recovered herself, and, from an irresistible influ- 
ence, again turned her eyes to the place where she had seen the 
figure ; but it was gone. 

"Can it be that I have seen him?" she thought to herself ; and 
then she felt as if Frank had been there and had made an appeal 
to her for a share of her prayers, and she responded with an 
overflowing heart. 

As they left the church the sun was up. The morning was 
beautiful, and everything looked cheerful and alive with that 
striving and energy that so marked the people of California at 
that day, and told so plainly of the great future in store for this 
Bay City. 

Katie's precaution to have a carriage in waiting was not amiss, 
for Ellen found that she shrank from a walk through the streets 
at that hour of the morning. 



fl 



CHAPTER VIII. 



FEANK S LETTEK TO HIS WIFE. 

Ellen i^artook of her morning meal, if not with decided appe- 
tite, yet with a real desire to acquire the physical strength so 
necessary to her now. After breakfast, retiring to her sleeping 
room, she closed the door and calmly took from her writing desk 
Frank's letter, or statement, and, after pausing for a moment, 
as it seemed to summon resolution, she tore it open, and read 
as follows ; 

Frank's letter. 

Oh, Ellen, how shall I address you ? I know I have forfeited the right to 
love you, and to hold you to my breast as its darling. Yet while life lasts I 
cannot cease to do either, uo more than I could cease to breathe and yet live. 
No; my injured, suflferiug, angel wife, as inconsistent as my conduct may 
seem to you, yet the God above us knows that I have never faltered for one 
moment in wholly undivided love for you. Do not, then, tui'n away from me 
when I call you, my loved, my darling wife. No; in mercy, do not turn 
away. I do not come to ask you to restore me to the place I have forfeited, but 
to implore and beg of you, by the memory of our happy childhood and of the 
love I bore you, as boy and man, to listen and to hear me, that you may not 
scorn and despise me as false in heart as well as guilty. No; my poor, dar- 
ling Ellen, believe me; I have not sinned because my heart grew cold in its 
devotion to you, but because in that wild, selfish devotion I forgot the Ood 
who sent me the priceless treasure that made this world seem almost a j^ara- 
dise to me. Listen, Ellen, listen while, at your feet, I tell you the horrid 
tale. From the very moment I jiarted from you in Philadelphia one idea 
seemed to occupy my whole mind; it was to acquire gold enough to enable 
me to reunite myself to my darling wife. The crossing of the Isthmus, the 
wild luxuriance of the scenes there, the sufferings we endured in that burn- 
ing climate waiting for the steamer to arrive from its passage around the 
Horn, all passed without a thought. The companions of my journey were 
unnoticed by me. In the end I had only a vague recollection of them all, 
and not one circumstance could I recall distinctlj\ As I stepped on land in 
San Francisco, the last scene br fore it seemea to me the parting with you in 
Philadelphia. Your last sad, sorrowing look was all I could distinguish as I 
looked back, and all I could see to strive for in the future, as I looked for- 
ward, was a success that would enable me to return to you. All rel "ioua 
18 



274 PIONEER TIMES IX CALlFORlttA. 

duties were, at first, indifferently performed, then deferred from time to 
time, and at length almost wholly neglected. When I knelt in prayer, as of 
old, it was but a mockery, for the gift and not the Giver occupied all my 
thoughts . God was worshiped by my lips, while my heart was far away 

with you. In S , where I located myself, there was no Catholic church 

when first I went there, and when the zeal of a good French priest and a 
few Irishmen began the erection of one, I paid no attention whatever to it, 

and no one in S supposed me to be ;i Catholic in faith. The priest, 

with the committee, called on me, as they did on almost every one, for a con- 
tribution, and I well recollect their surprise when, prompted by a sudden 
emotion, I handed them a check for five hundred dollars, wh( re they only 
expected twenty-five or fifty. They had no idea that in faith I was with them. 
So passed on the firit year; my whole heart and energies devoted to the ac- 
quisition of gold. I was successful in all my efforts, but " More " and " More " 
was my ci-y, as gold fairly streamed in upon me, and the acquisition so 
charmed and dazzled me that at the end of the year I sought and obtained 
your consent to remain one year longer. "With renewed exertions, from 
early morning till late at night, I sought to increase my wealth, and often 
lay down in my comfortless bed and dreamed of returning home to you 
with millions and millions, and of seeing you in queenly state, surrounded 
by magnificence, and dispensing favors to the whole cringing public, who 
were iu humility at your feet; and then I would awake from my dream of 
pride to redouble my efforts to realize it all, and find my paradise, not above 
with God, but here below with you. Every effort seemed to prosper, and I 
said, in my i^ride: " There is no such word as fail to a man of my abilities; 
all my ambition seeks for will be mine." I was proud, too, and self-compla- 
cent of my faith and truth to you, and looked with contempt on the unfaith- 
ful husbands I met with, worse than the Pharisees. I thanked not God but 
myself, that I was not like other men. Such was my career of forgetfulness 
and pride when, in making extraordinary efforts, on " steamer day," to make 
a larger shipment of gold than usual, I over-worked myself. The conse- 
quence was a cold, and then a fever, in which I lay for twenty-one days un- 
conscious of all around me. On regaining my wandering senses, the first 
thing I perceived was that I was cared for by a young woman, who did all I 
required with the delicacy and kindness of a sister. When the Doctor nest 
came he introduced her to me, with high praises, saying I owed her my life. 
I at once called Mr. Neil, my bookkeeper, and told him to settle with Miss 
Marsh in the most liberal manner, intimating that now my clerks' nursing 
would be sufficient. She went into tears, and said she could not leave me 
until I was quite recovered. The Doctor joined her in saying she must stay; 
that it would be dangerous to me for her to leave just yet. The result was I 
was thrown off my guard, and she remained. I could not help feeling 
deeply grateful, and, being totally deceived as to her history and true position 
and character, I was exposed to a danger from which God alone could save 
me. I had been totally unmindful of Him, and in that hour of my need He 
was unmindful of me. Then my eyes were opened to the woman's true 
character. I now felt and knew that all was lost; that every hope of worldly 
happiness was gone forever, for 1 was determined that you should know the 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 275 

exact truth, and I foresaw the consequences. Oh, how worthless all my 
treasure of gold now appeared; in a moment it turned into lead in my sight. 
For a week I sought to escape from my own frightful thoughts by keeping 
myself half intoxicated, until one morning, when I was about to leave the 
store, Mr. Neil, who, you will recollect, was so long in the employment of 
the house in Philadelphia, and for whom I had the highest respect and es- 
teem, and in whose integrity and honor I would confide all I held dear, step- 
ped forward and requested to see me in the office for a moment. I followed 
him more as a truant boy follows an angry, sorrowing parent to hear words 
of reproof he knows he deserves, than as the condescending employer obeys 
the summons of one of his clerks. As we entered the ofHce, Mr. Neil closed 
the door, and, turning quickly round to me, grasped my hand and said, in a 
voice full of grateful emotion: 

" Dear Mr. Harvey, you have always been a brother to me, I would even 
say a father, but that I am so much the older of the two; believe me, then, 
deeplj' grateful, and that I am prompted by afi'ection and attachment as well 
as gratitude in seeking this interview." 

I at once interrupted him by saying: "Yes, dear fellow; I know you love 
me; I know your worth, your honor and your truth; I know, too, what you 
would talk to me of;" and, grasping him by both shoulders, I drew him close 
to me and whispered in his ear: " In plain words you want to say to me, that 
within a week I have become a drunkard and a false husband." 

" Oh! no, not so bad as that." 

" But yes; that is the way to talk it out; I see you are grieved for me, my 
old friend, but you must shake that feeling off, and try and keep from the 
public my humiliation and disgrace." 

"Oh! Mr. Harvey, do not speak in that terrible way; all is not lost; you 
can recover yourself now. I did not know the true character of this woman 
when Dr. Taylor brought her here, or I would have let you die rather than 
have consented to give her a foothold in your room; now, I find she is well 
known in this town, and I was disgusted on hearing yesterday that when she 
■went out and made some purchases of fine dresses, she had the audacity to 
assume your name in the addresses she gave for the packages to be sent to." 

As he told me this, drops of cold perspiration stood on my forehead, and 
a deadly horror seemed to be creeping through my whole body. He did not 
perceive this and went on : 

"Have you received Mrs. Harvey's three letters, that arrived while you 
were sick, and that I gave the nurse for you ?" 

My start and look of astonishment satisfied him of the fact that I had 
never received them . 

"No!" he went on, "why, I asked her yesterday if she had delivered 
them, and she said she had; but, as I had some doubts of her truth, I thought 
it better to retain the one that came by the last mail to hand you myself. 
Here it is." 

As he said this, he handed mo the letter and left the office, believing. I 
suppose, that I would prefer to be alone while I read it. What a sight 
for me, just then, was a letter from you. My trembling, unsteady 
hand could not hold it and it fell at my feet, with my name and address, 



27G PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 

written in tho ■well-remcmberecl haml, uppermost. I remained, with my ej'es 
riveted on it, unable to move from the spot. There I stayed, reading, or 
rather spelling, over and over the words of the direction. How long I staid 
there, I ounuot tell, but not u circumstance of my life that was connected 
with you, from tho day I lirst saw you, away back in my boyhood, when you 
came with our undo to Philadeljihia a weeping, sorrowing oii)hau child, up 
to the lime I loft you, to seek gold in California, but jiassed in review before 
mo with tho vividness of reality. Oh, how distiuctly I heard you thank me, 
as yon then did, for wiping away your tears and for exerting myself to cheer 
you that day of our first meeting. On, on came all the other scenes of our 
happy, blessed childhood ; and through them all, as plainly as I ever heard 
it, rang your loved voice in song or story, or in mirth or laughter. Then 
camo our first sail parting, when you went to Emmetsburg and Harry and 
myself to Georgetown. Again I saw you stealing toward us, as you did tho 
evcniug before our departure, and heard, oh, so plainly! your sweet, geutio 
wordi^ of sisterly love, as with blushes that gavo the scene its life-long charm, 
you unfolded your little treasure of parting gifts of students' caps and slip- 
pers, raado for us by your own dear hands. Then camo the tormenting, yet 
delightful scene of our meeting again, when you refused to bo treated as a 
child any more, or to regard mo any longer as a sch jolbny and a cousin, with 
a boy'ij and a cousin's privileges. Then camo in review that happiest of all 
happy years that preceded our marriage, ending with our engagement. How 
plainly I saw again your beaming eyes, as they met mine for tho first time after 
I had drawn from you tho confession that you loved mo. That look, that then 
filled mo with happiness to intoxication, now benumbed my brain with mis- 
ery. Then cams tho sighs, tho tears and all tho mirth and intense happi- 
ness of our joyous wedding day. Then came your sad looks and tears at 
tho idea of my going to California, and your warning words of a danger that 
lay in my path, and of tho sin of trifling with our marriage vows of " until 
death, never to part," which nothing but diro necessity, j'ou said, could jus- 
tify. Then camo tho agony of hearing again your impassioned entreaty to 
be allowed to go with mo and share with mo all the dangers of my Califor- 
nia life. Then the last sad breakfast and tho parting. Tho last, long, sor- 
rowing ombraco and wild kisses from lips as cold as death. The panorama 
of all the happy past seemed now to close, and a dark shadow to settle on 
my soul. Oh, it was despair! so complete and utterly without hope, that 
for a moment, it appeared to me, I experienced a foretaste of tho inconceiv- 
abJo woe of the damned. Self-de- truction was all that I could see iu tho dark 
night, my sin had drawn around me; that could relievo or end my suffer- 
ing; on it, I unhesitatingly resolved, and, as if aided by tho arch fiend, I be- 
came at ouco eahn and self-possessed; I picked up your letter, and with per- 
fect composure locked it up in my private desk unread. When Mr. Neil re- 
turned ho found me, to all appearance, my old self; I told him, in a cheerful 
voice, that I had made a resolution and that the past was past, and that iu 
the future ho should have no cause in my coilduct for uneasiness or pain. I 

then told him that I should, perhaps, close my business in S , and wished 

him to balance all my accounts so as to let me see how I stood iu all re- 
spects. Tho poor fellow looked truly happy, and cheerfully promised to ful- 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 277 

fill my wishca as soon as it was iiossible. It was now Friday, and I gavo my. 
self only until Saturday evening to make ready to put my resolve into execu- 
tion. My desire was, so to mauiige my death that it would appear the result 
of accident, both to you and the public, for something within me, that I 
could not still, whispered that the act was disgraceful and cowardly. After 
due thought, I decided that my body should not be discovered after death. 
I will not go into all the details of preparation for my intended crime, which 
I cannot recall without a sickeuiug horror. It is enough to staffs that I chose 
It lonesome, unfrequented slou^^h, making out of the river, hid away in long 
tule wild grass, as a spot most suitable for my purpose. I placed there a 
weight, an old casting that I found in some rubbish near my store, with a 
rope attached. The banks of the slough were high, and my intention was 
to fasten this rope around my neck, drop the casting into the water below 
me, so that when I aliot myself through the head, my body would bo carried 
down in the dark waters forever safe from human eyes. Saturday evening 
came, and found mo all ready. I placed your daguerreotype and last letter 
in my breast pocket, that they might be buried with me. I then cirefuUy 
examined my pistol and placed it with care beneath the red Chinese silk 
sash I always wore around my waist. Mr. Neil, deceived by my almost 
cheerful manner, had no idea of tho dark miirder in my heart. The woman 
Marsh was more shrewd, but I managed to quiet her suspicions. I gave 
out that I was about to spend the evening and night and all the next day, 
Sunday, with a friend. 

Strange as it may appear, tho telling of this lie troubled me, although I 
was about to commit a crime that could not bo recalled or repented of. As 
I left the store, as I believed for the last time, I could not refrain from shak- 
ing hands with Mr. Neil, when bidding him good evening. This, and per- 
haps something in my manner, seemed to strike him, for ho held my hand 
in his for a moment and looked earnestly in my face. Without appearing to 
notice his look of almost inquiry, I said, quietly: "On Monday morning I 
want to show you some corrections you will have to make in our account- 
current with Howard, Melius & Co. and with Taffy McCahill & Co., 
of San Francisco. Both these houses have received some money on my ac- 
count, of which I did not advise you." This had the effect I anticipated. It 
carried his thoughts from mo to his own little world, my ledger. I now 
started out on a quick walk for tho lonesome, dark spot in the tulo grass 
where my career was to end. Thero was a wild but subdued excitement in 
my brain, and as I hurried on with unfaltering steps, my eyes seemed to sec 
mox'e than they ever saw before, and my ears to hear more than they over 
heard before. Tho coming darkness, to my intense gaze, looked terribly 
fearful, and seemed closing down in auger on my very existence. To my 
imagination, my ears plainly discerned tho muliled tread of a legion of dark 
spirits all around me, leading and urging me forward. The slough was about 
three miles from my place of business. I had to keep tho main road for 
about two miles before coming to the cattle path, or trail, that led through 
the tule grass to the slough. I had almost reached this point when some one 
in a buggy came dashing toward me. I turned to leave the road, but it was 
too late. I was hailed with: 



278 PIONEER TIJffES IN CALIFOBNU. 

" Halloo, Harvey ! Where the mischief are yoii bound, or are you lost out 
here at this hour?" 

I stopped, and recognized a Mr. Myers, a business friend, one of my best 
customers from the interior, and a worthy, honorable man. I made some 
confused excuse as to walking for health, etc. 

" Come, jump in," Myers continued; " I will talk on business as we drive 
into town." 

There was no get off, so into his buggy I went. I experienced a most pain- 
ful sensation as I did so. A few minutes before I had, in thovight, bid fare- 
well to all the world and all its affairs. No^v, I was forced, as it were, to 
return to it, and tell Mr. Myers the price of flour, tobacco, long-handled 
shovels, cotton drilling, used for damming the streams, and ail other mer- 
chandise used in the mining districts. 

"You must load me to-morrow," said he, " even if it is Sunday; for my 
teams will all be in to-night, and you are no better Christian than I am a 
Jew, and yet I have been to work all this day — my Sabbath." 

" Christian ! " said I, and the word sent a cold shudder through my frame. 
" If you are no better Jew than I am a Christian, you have not much to 
boast of." 

"Well, Harvey, this is a sad and wicked world, as they say in the play; 
and my wife says this California of ours is the most wicked corner of it all; 
and that if we do not begin soon to act better, the devil will get us all, both 
Jew and Christian. But I say," he continued, " God is good, and may look 
with mercy on our peculiar position. Anyway, that is the way I argue the 
point with my good wife, and hope I may be right." 

On reaching the town, I left Mr. Myers, telling him that if I was not at the 
store the next day when he called, Mr. Neil would attend to everything for 
him just the same as if I was there. It was now night, and so dark that I 
could not find my way back to the slough ; so, with regret, I had to defer 
until morning the execution of my unshaken resolution. 

I recollected I had a duplicate key of the back door of the store; so at a 
later hour I stole in unobserved, and threw myself on a pile of opened blan- 
kets which lay on one of the counters — there to watch for the first dawning 
of the morning that I was determined should light my way to the slough. 
Sleep WIS slow in coming; and for hours I lay In mental agony, turning from 
side to side, and, strangely, I found myself, almost against my will, reflecting 
over and over the words of my Jew friend: " God is good, and may look with 
mercy on our peculiar position." At length, overpowered and weary from 
excitement, I fell into a profound sleep. Now, in my dreams, I was by the 
slough, in the yet dim light of the coming day. The dark, deep water looked 
terribly lonesome. The morning wind whistled and murmured mourn- 
fully through the tall, wild tule grass. Without flinching, I adjusted the 
rope, let the casting drop over the bank, and, turning my back to the dismal 
water, with steady hand shot myself through the brain. As the ball crashed 
through my head, I seemed to leap forward and then fall backwards at full 
length on the ground, my head alone over the bank, while the weight ap- 
peared to tighten the rope on my neck, until my staring eyes and blood- 
stained features and whole body became one hideous, swollen mass. Then I 



HOXEEE TIMES IN CALEFORNIA. 279 

heard rusbing souud;iof coufusiou, and voices from towards tbotown. Nearer 
and neiirer they came ; and now I could Lear my friend Myers' voice above 
them all, as, leading tbe way, be cried out: " Yes; bere I saw bim last nigbt, 
entering tbe tules in tbis direction, and bere, now, are fresb footprints, 
and none returning." In an instant more a dozen dogs broke tbrougb tbe 
tules and commenced to bowl piteously around my body. Tben came Myers 

and Neil, followed, it seemed to me, by all the inhabitants of S . 

Horror and amazement seemed to pervade tbe whole tbrong. 

" It is Frank Harvey! It is Frank Harvey! Take off the rope! Take off 
tbe rope!" cried a dozen voices at once. 

Some one, more forward tban tbe rest, dropped on his knees, with bowie- 
knife in band, to sever tbe rope, when, just then, the whole crowd seemed 
to open for some new-comer, and fall back in mute astonishment and awe. 
Oh, merciful God! tbe agony of that sleeping hour seemed now at its height, 
and beyond anything I could suffer during any waking moment of my life. 
For there I saw you, with terrible distinctness, advancing where the parting 
tbroi^g bad cleared tbe way, accompanied, it appeared to me, by a troop of 
bright, angelic beings, all robed in garments of dazzUng whiteness and 
purity. In your dark hair were entwined tbe same wreath of flowers, the 
sparkling diamonds you wore on our wedding day ; but oh, bow fearful to 
me was the changed expression of your countenance! On that blessed day, 
every feature, every look, when turned on me, expressed unbounded calm, 
confidence and love. Now every feature wore an expression of anger, scorn 
and contempt. As you approached close to my mutilated body, you drew 
from your finger the plain gold ring I had myself placed tbere. Holding it 
in your band, you gazed on my body for a moment; then, casting it on my 
breast, exclaimed: " Oh, yes ! it is he! There, take that ring, which was to 
be the emblem of a union without end, but which you have now severed for 
all eternity. Miserable coward ! that could not summon tbe courage to en- 
dure a short life, though in suffering it might be— that would pass like a 
dream — that we might enjoy together boundless happiness with God and His 
angels. What you had lost by your infidelity, if repented of, was only at tbe 
most a few years of tbis life's happiness, and was as nothing to what you 
have forfeited by this great crime of self-murder. We are now separated for 
all time and eternity, and scorn is all I can feel for you." And now, speak- 
ing in a voice of authoritative command, you appeared to turn to the crowd, 
and continued: " Let no Christian burial ground be contaminated by the re- 
ception of the remains of this miserable suicide. Let no Christian hands 
touch his mutilated body. No! Let him rest in the spot that he himself 
has chosen. In the dark, foul waters of this stagnant slough. There," you 
continued, as with your slender white foot, gifted, it seemed to mo, with 
magic power, you spurned my body ; ' ' go! go! Coward! coward! And slowly 
over the high bank my body seemed to slide, and with a fearful plunge to 
strike the waters far below. A jDiercing cry of agony broke from my lips, 
and, awakening, I bounded from my blanket bed to the floor, trembling in 
every limb and drenched with perspiration from bead to foot, with your last 
words, " Coward, coward," yet ringing fearfully in my ears. I grasped one 
of the pillars that supported tbe main ceibng of the building, or I should 



280 PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 

have fallen. Soon recovering myself, I perceived the first faint dawn of the 
morning light showing itself through the small window over the store door. 
I recoll?cted the dark work I had laid out for that hour; but now my terrible 
dream, with your looks of withering scorn and contempt, came plainly be- 
fore me ; and I tried to summon courage to forego my resolution and return 
to the world and endure, manfully, all the suffering and mortification that 
might be in store for me. I had partly bucaeeded, and was about to throw 
myself on my knees, as I used to do of old, and pray for assistance, when 
my ear caught the sound of a light tread on the floor above me. I started 
and listened; for it came towards the stairway that led to the store. In an 
instant the truth flashed upon me, that the girl Marsh had been aroused by 
my cry, and was coming to look for me. If I had just heard, in the distance, 
all the legions of hell rushing to seize me, T could not, it appeared to me, 
have been filled with greater terror than I was now, on hearing that light 
footstep on the stairway. My good resolutions vanished. Death on the 

spot where I stood, by my own hand, or in the most public street of S , 

with all the disgrace of dying a suicide, seemed as nothing in comparison 
with ever again meeting and falling into the power of that woman. With 
one noiseless bound I reached the door at the foot of the stairs, and gently 
turned the key in the lock. I felt for my pistol in my breast pocket. It was 
there, and I knew well j)repared for use. Without knowing exactly why, I 
snatched a gleaming bowie knife from a case on the counter and thrust it 
beneath my sash. Then I heard a light knock at the staii-way door, and my 
name called in a low voice. My teeth chattered and my knees trembled, and 
that ten-ible despair I had before experienced again seized me; and again I 
saw no hope, no relief nor end to my sufferings but in death. My resolution 
was now fixed. The rising sun of that morning, I was detennined, should 
not shine for me. By the door I had entered, in wild haste I left the store. 
Then on I rushed to clear myself of the town and find some new spot where 
I should, undisturbed, end my sufferings. I could not now face the slough 
where I had made the preparations. The vision of my night's dream was 
too terribly vivid . 

While I sought death, I sought at the same time to fly from your angry 
words and looks, by leaving the town in an opposite direction to the road 
that lead to the scene of my vision. I had no fixed determination, and had 
gone but a short way when, turning a corner, I found myself in company 
with some twenty persons, mostly women, hurrying on in the same direc- 
tion with myself. At first I could not imagine what this meant, for it was 
yet far from clear light, and my excited imagination made me for a moment 
fear that my desperate intention was discovered, and that the whole town 
was aroused by it. A few steps further, however, brought us opposite a build- 
ing into which the crowd turned. I looked up and there stood the neat lit- 
tle church I had subscribed for, but had never entered, and between me and 
the bright morning sky stood out, as if appealing to me, the cross surmount- 
ing the little steeple. Just then the tinkle of the little bell, that I knew so 
well as indicating the commencement of service, caught my ear. It appeared 
to me that I stood once more before dear St. Joseph's Church, and that I had 
come to hear early mass, as hundreds of times I had done in Philadelphia. 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 281 

I stood overpowered by recollections of the past, unable either to fly from the 
spot or enter the church. I think at that moment there was a desperate 
struggle between the arch fiend and my Guardian Angel for control. One 
moment I was about to enter, the next to fly, when suddenly, the enchanting 
and solemn music of our church service broke forth sweetly on the early 
morning stillness. It wanted but this to complete the illusion, that it was 
indeed St. Joseph's Church that stood before me, and the good Father Bar- 
belin was its pastor. It was all so like those devotions he used to have just 
before the break of day, with sweet music that at that hour, above all others, 
arouses every feeling of devotion and piety in our nature. I seemed carried 
back to all the good inflaences of my youth, and, yielding to them, I entered. 
I sought an open pew in the shade of one of the pillars, and, sinking on my 
knees, with head bowed down, all the prayer I could utter was that of the 
publican. The wild storm in my heart seemed allayed, and courage and con- 
fidence came to soothe my agitated frame. My being in the church and my 
evident agitation of feeling had not escaped the notice]of the good priest, who 
was the same to whom I had given the subscription. As soon as service was 
closed and most of the people had left the church, he came to where I was, 
and, leaning over me as I yet knelt, said, in a voice full of tender gentleness: 
" Can I, either as a friend or as a priest, be of any service to you ?" 
As I looked up, his countenance struck me as being marked with good 
judgment as well as with kindness. In an instant I resolved to throw my 
whole future conduct upon his guidance. 1 made no answer, but, turning to- 
wards where the confessional stood, I pointed to it. He understood me, and 
walking back to the altar put on his surplice and stole, and then knelt some 
moments, in prayer before entering the confessional. It required all my reso- 
lution to follow him, but, seeing the scriptui'al sentence inscribed beneath the 
cross that surmounted the confessional: "Come to me, all you that labor and 
are heavy laden, and I will refresh you," I seemed to acquire strength 
and courage, and entered. Then in humility, that made me feel as though 
I was but a meek child, I disclosed to the good Father all my transgressions 
and all my sorrows. 

His advice was long and earnest, and closed by requesting me to come 
again that evening. As I left the church he threw himself in my way and 
saluted me in a cheerful voice, as though he had not before seen me that 
morning, and invited me to take breakfast with him, saying that he would 
be all alone, as, although there was another priest just then with nim, ho 
would not be at breakfast, as he was to say the late mass, and could not 
treakhis fast until after service. I knew he could not allude to anything I 
bad told him in the confessional, except at my directly expressed wish; so I 
accepted his invitation and after breakfast again restated to him all my 
troubles, and asked his advice, as a friend, as well as a priest. He told me 
that until he saw me in the church that morning, he had no idea I was a 
Catholic. When be spoke cheerfully of my future, I told him I had no hope 
that you would ever consent to our reunion. He said it might be so, but 
that it was my duty to send for you at once, and let you make your own 
choice when you should know all. The result was that under the good 
Father's advice, I did not return to the store, but stayed privately with him 



282 PIONEEB TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 

all tliat Sunday and the next day until the boat was leaving for San Fran- 
cisco, when I slipped off unnoticed. On arriving in the city, I disclosed 
everything to Henry, and requested him to repair to S. and have the woman 
Marsh discharged from my premises. I wrote confidentially to Mr. Neil to 
ask his aid for Henry. You know the rest. I wrote for you, but I let dark 
forebodings cast a shadow over the spirit of my letter, to partly, if possi- 
ble, school you for the horrid tale that awaited you here. Whatever may 
have been the motives of the woman Gabit, she rather aided than did me 
any harm by her visit to you, for it saved me from imposing on some friend 
the painful task of being the bearer, to you, of news that was to wither and 
blight all your bright hopes of coming joy and worldly happiness. Now, I 
have told you all, Ellen, just as it is known to the God above us, not a cir- 
cumstance that would add to my guilt have I knowingly left out. II was 
your right to know all, and when you have read these pages, be satisfied that 
there is not a secret of my life, to this hour of my existence, that is not 
shared by you. I am now at your feet; do with me as you please. All I 
directly ask for is that you will tell me that you want me to love you just as 
I do love you, and as I cannot help loving you to the end of my life. I 
want you to tell me that you wish me to live for you while it pleases God to 
leave us on this earth, and then to meet in heaven. I want you to tell me 
that you will watch every step of my life and pray to God to guide them all. 
I want you to write to me just as you used to do, and let me share every sor- 
row thiit may cross your jjath in life — that life that, but for me, would have 
been all so bright and joyous. I do not ask to share any joys or sunshine 
that God may, in His mercy, grant to your weary way. That would be more 
than I deserve. Your tears are all I ask to share. I want you to tell me that 
you do not despise or scorn me, and that I may, as of old, call you, though 
far away I may be, " My own darling Nellie." Oh, Ellen! even though it 
should be that we are not again to be reunited on earth, you can be my 
second guardian angel, to aid me to subdue my proud nature, and bear up 
manfully against the humility of my position, and to, every day, do some- 
thing to make me worthy of a place with you in heaven. And now, my dar- 
ling-Nellie, may God comfort and bless you, which will be, my darling angel 
wife, the unceasing prayer of your devoted husband, 

Feank Haevey. 



CHAPTER IX. 



THE- WIFE S LETTER TO HER HUSBAND. 

Sometimes, while reading Frank's letter, Ellen was forced to 
lay it down and give way to bursts of uncontrollable grief; but 
each time, with heroic efforts, she resumed her task, until, at 
length, as the day was far spent, she reached its closing words 
of prayer for her. I called to see her that evening, but she had 
told Katie to ask me to excuse her; so I did not see her till the 
nest afternoon, when she handed me a letter for Frank. As 
she did so, she was seized with a violent fit of hysterical grief, 
and it was all that Katie and I could do to calm her. Twice 
she took the letter back from me, and, laying it on the table 
before her, wept and mourned over it, and kissed with passion- 
ate kisses the address, with all that sort of wild grief with 
which the living part with some loved form at the edge of the 
grave. At length, summoning all her resolution, she handed 
me the letter, and with hurried steps disappeared from the 
room. This closed the last of those terribly sad scenes I went 
through with poor Ellen at the Union Hotel. She occupied 
apartments there, in all, but thirteen days; yet, as I 
look back now, it seems to me it must have been at least a year, 
for no year of my life left the impression the events that trans- 
pired there in that short period left on me. That spot, the cor- 
ner of Merchant and Kearny streets, is connected in my mind 
with a sort of mysterious, sad, lonesome feeling, that I can never 
shake off. It is so inseparably connected with the sorrows and 
sufferings of poor Ellen and Frank, both of whom I devotedly 
loved. Though happy, in my own family, as man can be, and 
in all my surroundings, yet their fate has cast a shadow over my 
path, seen by myself only, it may be, that no sunlight ever 
wholly dispels. 

The Union Hotel, built by Middleton, Selover & Joyce, at a 
cost of a quarter of a million of dollars, then in all its elegance, 



284: PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 

and the pride of our city, was afterwards burned to the ground, re- 
built aud burned again; then rebuilt and sold to the city and con- 
verted into public offices. Yet, all these changes and more than 
twenty years of time, have left the spot unchanged to me, and I 
hardly ever, even now, pass that corner that I do not start as 
though Ellen must be somewhere there; and, sometimes, so viv- 
idly does she come to my mind and sight, at those times, that I 
almost fancy I again hear her mournful cr}- and convulsive sob- 
bing, as the dropped on her knees and joined in prayer with the 
good missionary, Katie and myself, that eventful af cernoon when 
the Father accompanied me to see her. Then, again, I sometimes 
fanc}', as I pass that building, that I hear her call me b}- name, 
and before I recollect myself, I have turned to enter, in obedi- 
ence to the summons. My wife shares with mo in these feelings, 
and we often find ourselves walking an extra block to avoid that 
jjart of Kearny street. It was but a short time ago that we were 
sj)ending an evening with a friend in Stockton sti*eet, where we 
remained so late that we had to walk home, the cars having 
stopped running. The night was beautiful, unclouded, and 
moonlight. Our shortest way lay down Washing*ion street and 
then along Kearny. As we walked along, our conversation hap- 
pened to turn on a subject deeply interesting to us both, as par- 
ents. It was of a happ3" as well as of an absorbing character. 
Time and distance passed unnoticed, and even the ever-shunned 
spot on Kearny street was forgotten until my wife's arm sud- 
denly clutched mine tightly and I felt her tremble all over, as 
she stopped short. I looked up and found we were on Kearny, 
nearly opposite Merchant street. As I looked, I saw a lady and 
gentleman standing opposite the old Union building and ap- 
parently viewing it all over. I apprehended in a moment my 
wife's sudden nervous start, for the same tremor passed through 
myself as I recognized a most remarkable resemblance in the per- 
sons before us to Ellen and Frank, in figure, dress and form. 
Wthout speaking, or apparently observing us, the lady took the 
gentleman's arm, and they disappeared around the corner into 
Merchant street. "We hurriedly resumed our walk, and, as we 
passed, we looked down that dark street, but the strangers were 
nowhere to be seen. Neither of us spoke for a time; at length, 
as we reached California street, m}' wife said, in a half choked 
voice : 

" Henry, what do you think?" 



PlOlJEER TIMES IN CAilFORXlA. 285 

"Think, dear Jennie," said I. " Of course, I do not (Jdnk 
anyihing about it. I Icnoro the persons wo saw wore flesh and 
blood, like ourselves, idly looking' at that Ijuildjng. I acknowl- 
edge tbe coincidence of their remarkable resemblance to our 
dear, departed loved ones, for it struck me, as I saw it did you; 
but, of course, it was only a coincidence, and even that would 
not, perhaps, have struck us, if we had seen these persons any- 
where but in that spot. " 

" But," urged Jennie, " what became of them? They were not 
in Merchant street when we looked down it as we passed." 

" Dear Jennie, do not allow yourself to bo superstitious," I 
continued. " Recollect, in the first place, that Merchant street 
is dai'k, even on a bright night like this, and then, you know, 
there are doors to every building on both sides, one of Avhich 
these persons must have entered before we reached tho street." 

'•' Well," said Jennie, " of course, it must be as you say, but I 
am not half over tho friglit yet. You and I were just then so 
comj)letely lost in our own happy thoughts and conversation, 
that my first feeling was that our childhood's loved companions 
appeared to us as a reproach for our selfish, entire forgetfulness 
of them, when new joys came to crowd our path, as on tho oc- 
casion of this marriage of our darling cliild." 

All that night our dreams were of Ellen and Frank, but tbe 
cheerful light of the next morning dispelled the sad impressioas 
that that walk home had left with u^ both in spite of all our ef- 
forts to cast tliem off. 

But, to retiirn from this digression to my story. As I took that 
letter to Frank from Ellen, I fully uudei'stood that, in parting 
with it, Ellen felt as though she was parting with Frank. The 
next day Frank gave me tho letter to read. It was as follows: 

My own darling, loved husband: My task is done; every sentence, every 
■word of the terrible story of your California life is now before mc, as vivid 
and living in rny thoughts and memory as though each separate word th.at 
told the horrid tale had been seared on my brain and vision with fire that 
was never to go out or darken. I read it but once, but, oh, my darling 
Frank! how fearfully ^jerfect I have it all by heart. "Wherever I am, what- 
ever I am doing, over and over I trace every circumstance you have related. 
Sometimes it appears to me I am standing on the steamer deck that brought 
you to California, and see you wrapped in thoughts of me, and me alone, and 
I tremble, for I feel as though I was then displacing God from His just place 
in your thoughts. My darling husband, we are terribly punished for our for- 
getfulnesa of our entire dependence on Him. I am far the worse of tho two, 



286 PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 

for it was my place, my duty, to have reminded you of dangers that can alono 
be escaped from by reliance on God. No, Frank, in my pride and foUy I 
exalted you in my thoughts above every man on earth. I believed other men 
could bo weak in temptation and fall into sin, but it never once crossed my 

imagination that you could. Your long sickness in S , in the hands of 

that unfortunate creature who saved your life, your agony at the result of her 
presence in your house, your despair and terriblo purpose, that horrid, hor- 
rid vision that was sent by a uijcrciful God to save you, will all haunt me while 
life is left to me; yes, and will be a burden for mo to lay down only at the 
edge of the grave. Time and God's grace may enable mo to support it well 
and cheerfully, but it will never pass away nor grow lighter. My darling, 
loved husband, what now shall be our course ? You are forgiven within mj' 
heart of hearts; yes, without the least reservation, my darling Frank, for 
whatever fault or sin there is in the past is mine as well as your's to repent 
of, and will only be remembered when I pray to God to forgive us both our 
pride, and grant us the grace to accept His chastisement without a muramr. 
It is no small happiness that our heaiis are one, as of old, and will beat to- 
gether in sorrow, and in sunshine, too, if permitted to fall on our future way 
of life. But, Fi'auk, my suffering darling, how is it, that when I think of now 
joining you, I see a gulf at my feet that nothing seems to bridge over; awake or 
asleep, I see the gulf there, and liud it utterly impossible to bring myself to 
attempt its passage. In mj' straggles to overcome mj^self, my reason itself 
gi'ows dim. I feel that to do so would violate some hidden sentiment dear 
and sacred to us both. Some indescrib i.ble feeling, that if I were to disre- 
gard, you could not, it appears to me, respect and love me, just as you used 
to do. No, my darling, I find we cannot regain what we have lost by rudely 
attempting to crush out what our education fostered and entwined around 
our love for each other, and gave it such an exquisite charm. I feel that we 
can love each other best by remiiiniug apart, ior awhile at least, and in this I 
•want your free consent, for, in all thiugs, I am again your wife to commimd. 
God can bridge the gulf our forgetfalness of the necessity of His care opened 
between us. Let us look forward then with hope, even for this world. You 
ask me to say that I want you to love me just the same as ever. My darling 
husband, your love to me is life itself. Yes, Fi^auk, love me, and call mo my 
pet name, and it will, to me, have its old endeiuiug sound. You usk mo to 
tell you to live for me. Y'es, my darling, live for me, for on you I will de- 
pend for all my wants. No dress nor ornament shall I ever wear but those 
that como from your hands. Send me back to your darling mother's home, 
and bid mo stay until you return from California, which do not defer longer 
than stern duty to otheis demands. But, oh, Frank, if sickness should 
again overtake you, send for me, send for me witliout a moment's hesitation; 
I will fly to you, and then that horrid gulf will be closed, never to open 
more. And if sickness comes to me, Frank, fly to me, fly to me, and you 
shall find no gulf between us. Frank, my darling, how can I say the part- 
ing words ? My brain is weary, and scarce fit to guide me to them. May 
Cod, in His goodness, bless and keep you safe, is the prayer of your darling 
wife. Nellie. 



1 



CHAPTER X. 



SUSAN MARSH S SUBSEQUENT HISTORY CONCLUSION. 

To complete this little history, I have a few more events of in- 
terest to relate, in addition to what Henry has told us. 

Katie, EUen's faithful attendant, was soon married to Peter, 
the engineer, and made him a true and loving helpmate. Peter, 
in a very little time, obtained the partnership his ambition sought, 
and is now one of our first citizens in wealth, as well as in social 
jDOsiLion. Katie was but a bright type of that class of Irish work- 
ing girls that pushed their way to California with the first immi- 
gration. Their industrious habits, and unquestioned moi-ality 
and virUie, caused them to be sought for as wives by our pioneer 
farmers and mechanics ; and they are now to be foiuid, all over 
the State, in happy homes, surrounded by good and virtuous 
children; an honor to the community in which they live, and the 
pride of the race from which they sprang. 

At the time Henry Philips went to S to dismiss Susan 

Marsh from Frank Harvey's premises, he was filled v^rith the bit- 
terest and most indignant feelings towards her, and intended to 
be outspoken and summary in his dealings with her. He took a 
check for one thousand dollars with him, which Prank told him 
to gi-ve her. He found her seated in the rocking-chair in tho 
little room she had occupied, next to Frank's. " Womun," said 
he, " I come to dismiss you from this place." She stai^tod from 
her seat, and, regarding him with a cold, desolate, hopeless look, 
shrank away from him like a withered thing. Henry had not the 
heart to say anotlier angry word ; so, changing the tone of his 
voice, he continued, holding out the check towards her: " Here 
is a thousand dollars Mr. Harvey sent you." She did not reach 
for it; so, after a pause, and in a voice that was almost kind, ho 
said: "Yes; take it. It is lawfully yours, and if you use it rightly 
it may help you to turn over a new leaf, and to find a returning 
road from the terrible life you have been leading." A glance of 
the faintest hope seemed to struggle for expression in tho gloom 



28S PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 

of her face. She reached for the check with a trembling' hand. 
Hear}' hastily left the room, aud, as he hurried down the stairs, 
he found himself muttering- a i^rayer for the unfortunate girl. 
Susan Marsh did make an effort to turn over a new leaf, and the 
big charity to be found in California, and in California onlij, 
gave her the chance. By an accident, the very next day, she 
met with a Mr. and Mrs. Burk, a worthy^ couple, who were about 
to open a restaurant in the neighborhood, where now stands the 
city of Marysville. To Mrs. Burk she fully explained her 
history, aud her resolution to change her life. "Without hesita- 
tion, the Burks determined to help her; so they hired hei to 
assist them, as cook, at the highest wages then going. In this 
new position she was entirely unknown. She worked hard, and 
continued faithful to her resolution and to her employers. After 
a year thus Avell spent, she received an offer of marriage from a 
rough, honest pioneer cattle-man, who often refreshed himself 
at Mr. Burk's restaurant when his business caused him to 
visit Marysville. Susan rejected the offer over and over, but her 
suitor would not take "No" for an ans-wer; so, at Susan's request, 
Mr Burk gave him her true history. The stock-man reflected a 
moment, then said: 

' ' You say she has turned over a new leaf for a fact aud 
truth ? " 

"I believe it, truly, and so does my wife," said Mr. Burk. 

"Well, then," continued the stock-man, "I am not exactly a 
saint myself, and I will not go back on her. My homo shall be 
her home, and God will help iis both." 

And so it was that Susan Marsh became an honest man's wife, 
and that man had never cause to regret his generosity. 

When Frank read Ellen's letter he was not cast down, for ho 
was a better judge of Ellen's feelings than any one, and had har- 
bored no hope of an immediate reunion. Her full and entire 
forgiveness, and her expressions of unchanged love gave him the 
greatest consolation, and made him feel more like himself than 
he had been for months. The evident struggle, too, she was 
making to pass the '' gulf" she spoke of, filled him with hope 
for the future, and made life once more dear to him. He wrote 
a warm, generous letter to her, acquiescing in all her plans for 
the future, and saying eveiything that he thought would make her 
feel happy. One more sorrowful daj- was in store for him, how- 
ever, that wilted him almost to the ground. It was the day the 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 



m 



steamer left San Francisco, with Ellen on board. Henry had 
found a most agreeable escort for Ellen in an Episcopal clergy- 
man and Lis amiable wife, who had been out here in the interest 
of the Episcoj^al Church, which was then just struggling for po- 
sition in San Francisco, and who were now returning to New 

York. Mr. and Mrs. H were highly educated and of the most 

refined manners, devoid of all those narrow prejudices which 
hang around ignorant pretender.^ in religion, of wliich, however, 
we see so little in California. Henry gave them an outline of 
Ellen's story, and found that they were of those who could per- 
fectly comprehend her, and as Henry related the sad events 
neither could restrain their deep emotion. Before leaving. Rev. 
Mr. H , prompted by gentlemanly feeling as well as by ad- 
miration of the old missionary, Father D — — , called to see him, 
and requested his views as to making any further efifort on the 
passage home to move Ellen's resolution. 

" If she herself opens the subject," said the Father, " I would 
advise that you and your good lady say whatever seems well to 
your judgment at the time, but otherwise leave all to time. For 
God will, in his own way, guide the poor, dear child. This is 
ray view, but I see you understand her chai'acter, and I feel 
sure you can rely on your own judgment how to act, and will do 
as well as I could possibly do." 

As the day for Ellen's leaving approached, Frank sent her a 
powerful glass, with the request that as the steamer went through 
the Golden Gate, she should look to the summit of Telegraph 
Hill, for he would bo there, waving his handkerchief. She took 
the glass with eagerness, and did look, and did see him. It was 
the only sight she had of him in California. I will not describe 
the scene which followed that sight, as related to me by the 
clergyman's wife in after years. How she fainted away, the 
glass dropping from her hand overboard, and the sad hours and 
days that followed; for it would only give useless pain. Ellen 
arrived home in safety, and was received by Frank's mother and 
Uncle John Gi'ant as a loved child only could bo received. 
Under their fostering care she became calm, cheerful and almost 
happy. 

After Ellen's departure, Frank at once returned to S to 

wind up his business. He was cheerful and always composed, 
exact and clear in all his business transactions; but a close ob- 
server would see that a great change had come over him. His 
19 



290 PIONEER TIMES IN CALTFOENIA. 

merry, ringing laugh was no more beard. His appetite was 
slight, and his great jihysical powers seemed somewhat to yield. 
It was about three months after Ellen's departure that a friend 
induced him to take a ride with him in the country. They were 
overtaken by the very first storm of the season. It was terribl}' 
severe, and drenched them both to the skin. Frank took a 
severe cold, from which he never entirely recovered. It soon 
settled on his lungs, and then a fear seized him that he should 
never see Ellen again. This induced him, without a moment's 
hesitation, to turn all his business over to Mr. Neil to close up, 
and he left for home in the very next steamer for Panama. On 
his journey he grew worse and worse, so that the day he arrived 
at his mother's he was unable to walk without assistance. Frank's 
determination to leave California was so suddenly taken that he 
had no way of advising Ellen or his mother of his intentions, 
for no telegraph then crossed the plains; so the first intimation 
any of them had was a disj)atch his mother received from New 
York, announcing his arrival. 

Ellen was in Philadelphia on a visit to her uncle at the time, 
so that when Frank reached his mother's house Ellen was not 
there to meet him. As his mother threw her arms around his 
wasted form, she could not restrain her sobs and weeping. Uncle 
John Grant, too, gave way to bitter grief. " Oh, mother, my 
own loved, darling mother, and dear Uncle John, do not weep 
so, I beseech you; for if the worst comes to the Avorst, you 
know I am here with you all, and my darling Ellen will be here, 
too, and our separation will, after all, be only for a da\', and 
then we shall all meet to part no more; so do not weep, my dar- 
ling mother. " 

The next day Ellen arrived. Mrs. Harvey and Uncle John ran 
to meet her as she alighted from the carriage . A hurried kiss 
they gave her, but not a word could they or Ellen utter. There 
were many friends in the parlor and hall, who had come to make 
inquiries for Frank. As Ellen passed through them, all arose 
from an involuntary impulse; but not a word was spoken as she 
hurried on towards Frank's room. 

In a moment more Ellen and Frank were clasped in each 
other's arms. Yes; the "gulf" Ellen had seen at her feet in San 
Francisco was gone forever. Yet one short month was all of 
this life that was left to them to enjoy together on earth; for at 
the end of that time they were called on to part — and with relig- 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFOKNIA. 



291 



ious faith and perfect resignation they obeyed the summons. 

Ellen continued to reside with Frank's mother until her death, 
and they were a loving and devoted mother and daughter to 
each other. 

Then came Death once more on his mission. Uncle John Grant 
and the dear mother both died in quick succession, leaving Ellen 
alone. She was the wealthiest and most beautiful widow in 
southern Pennsylvania. 

In fulfillment of a long settled determination, she resigned all 
her wealth. First, she gave liberally to relatives who needed 
a helping hand, and all the rest she assigned to chai'itable insti- 
tutions. She then bade farewell to the world. Resigning her 
name, and taking a new one in religion, she became a Sister of 
Charity. She was one of the most active and useful members of 
the sisterhood, and always seemed cheerful and happy. After 
yearrs, she was sent on the mission to New Orleans. It was just 
before the rebellion broke out, and before its close her task was 
done, and her crown won, for she died from an all night's ex- 
posure on the battle-field succoring the wounded. 

When I went East, eight years ago, impelled by an irresistible 
feeling, I turned out of my way to visit the grave of Frank Har- 
vey. The monument was of the finest marble, chaste and beau- 
tiful in plan and construction. On one side, in a niche cut in 
the monument, was inserted a cross fashioned with exquisite 
taste, from California gold quartz, and sparkling with the jDre- 
cious metal. As I leaned on the massive iron railing surround- 
ing the monument, memory carried me back to the days when 
Frank Harvey and all of us first heard of gold in California, and 
I could not help exclaiming: "Oh, California, California! if 
every grave into which the discovery of the long-hidden treasure 
has sunk a weary, broken heart, was decked as this grave is, there 
is scarce one graveyard from the St. Lawrence to the Rio Grande, 
that would not, in some part of it, flaunt thy glittering GOLD !" 



ADA ALLEN; 

OR. 

THE HUSBAND'S SURPRISE. 



CHAPTER I. 



AEEIVAL IN SAN FRANCISCO CAPTAIN CAS8ERLT. 

In the month of March, 1850, soon after the first wharf ac- 
commodation was provided in the harbor of San Francisco, the 
mail steamer arrived from Panama, bringing, as one of her 
thousand passengers, the heroine of the little history which I 
am about to relate. The steamer's gun was fired as she entered 
the harbor, and was heard all over the city. Hundreds, as was 
always the case on this signal, rushed towards the wharf. It 
was after dark when the steamer came alongside, and then was 
enacted one of those scenes never to be forgotten by a " '49er," 
and of which a description is impossible. Husbands dashed 
wildly around looking for their expected wives; brothers to find 
an expected sister, who had summoned courage to face California 
life; friends looking for friends; sons for fathers; brother for 
brother. It seemed a general scramble, made worse by hotel and 
boarding-house runners seeking for guests. You hear joyous 
exclamations and laughter on all sides, and sobbing and weep- 
ing too, but, as a whole, every one looks wild with joy and ex- 
citement. Now and then you observe a sad, anxious looking 
face. It is some young fellow, perhaps, who, having just grad- 
uated at college, has ventured to California to seek his fortune. 



294 PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 

v/ith scarce a dollar in his pocket. He has left for the first time 
fond i>arents, brothers and sisters, now so far away. His yonng 
heart quails within him as he realizes that the battle-ground of 
life is now before him, and that the struggle, in which he is to bo 
an actor and upon which his all depends, has, in fact, begun this 
very night. But now, j'ou can see, as you waich him, that he 
seems to shut his teeth together, and you fancy, from his reso- 
lute look, that he says to himself: "I am an American, and 
there is no such word as fail for me." Or, it may be, you see 
some poor wife, who has not yet seen her husband coming to 
claim her, and whose heart is choked with vague appreliensions 
of evil! Or, it may be, your eye rests on a blooming young girl, 
with her heart full of the purest love, and of that courage to 
face a pioneer life, that is so much a part of the American char- 
acter, and that has done so much to build us up and make us a 
great nation. She has come over the wild seas to her lover, on 
an understanding that he is to meet her, with priest and witness, 
on the steamer deck and take her fi*om there his wife. Now look 
again, for there the lover comes, faithful to his promise, with a 
gay party full of joyous excitement, all laughing and fairly up- 
roarious, as they hug and kiss the now happy girl! The clergy- 
man may be the Reverend Mr. Vej- Mehr, who did so much for 
the Episcopal Church in those early days. The crowd all gather 
around, in hushed attention, as the reverend gentleiuan begins 
the solemn marriage ceremony of his church. The last word 
of the ceremony is said, and then a rush is made for the first 
kiss of the bride, but the husband is too quick for outsiders; the 
first from the lips of his brave pioneer wife is his ! Then arises 
cheer after cheer, caught up by all, until now it rings along the 
whole length of the wharf. Look again; there comes a lady 
with her husband, whom she has just met. She has four fine 
children; the eldest is a beautiful little girl of eight years! 

' ' Make way for the children ! make way for the children ! Stand 
aside! stand aside!" is now the cry from the crowd. Then some 
onecallsout: "Three cheers for the childi'en!" and "Three more 
for the mother who brought them!" adds another. 

Oh ! they are given with a will; for nothing in those days 
stirred the hearts of Californians as did the advent of a virtuous 
woman and children, or a marriage scene! 

Look again. See that powerful-looking man in the miner's 
rig of red overshirt, with the customary Chinese red silk sash 




PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFOKNU, 295 

around his waist. His exterior is rough, but his heart is gentle. 
He is pressing forward towards the children as they are making 
their way through the crowd, and, leaning forward, he says to 
the mother, as he holds out a beautiful specimen of gold: 

" I dug this out myself. May I give it to you, little girl ? " 

A glance at his face, and the gentle tone of his voice, con- 
vinces the mother that the gift is an offering of an absent father 
of children, far awa^'' and devotedly loved, and her heart is full 
at the thought. 

" Yes, certainly,'' she i-esponds; and as the child takes the gift 
with a sweet "Thank you, sir," the mother adds, "Kiss the gen- 
tleman, Emma." 

Then the child raises her little cherry lips, and the miner 
stoops and kisses her. He turns quickly away, drawing his 
broad-brimmed California hat down more over his face, to hide 
from view struggling tears and emotion that he could not con- 
trol. 

Now, as we stand on the lower step of the stairs that lead to 
the main cabin, let us look again, and we shall see a lady stand- 
ing at the door of a stateroom, holding the hand of a child, a 
sweet little girl, while another, a fine little boy, is amusing him- 
self near her. She is young, and remarkably beautiful; stylish 
and dignified in her beai'ing. You cannot define exactly the ex- 
pression of her countenance. It betrays great anxiety; yet there 
is a calmness and a sort of determined, forced repose about it 
that puzzles you as you observe her closely. Just then she speaks 
to the stewardess, and asks her to request the Captain to come 
and see her. After a few moments the Captain is there. 

" "What can I do for you, Mrs. Allen? I am at your command," 
he said, politely. 

"Captain," said Mrs. Allen, with a cordial smile, but with a 
slight tremor in her voice, " I want to ask you if there are any 
of the police force near at hand." 

"Why, yes, dear Mrs. Allen, certainly there are; but I trust 
nothing has gone wrong," said the Captain, looking surprised, 
if not alarmed. 

" Oh, no. Captain, not in the least, I assure you, but I want 
an officer to accompany me to my husband's house." 

" Why, Mrs. Allen, I fear you have a low estimate of our city 
of San Francisco. I assure you there is not a city in the world 
where a lady, who is a lady, is so safe as in San Francisco. The 



296 PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 

man who would insult or offend a lady in San Francisco would 
be dealt with without judge or jury the moment his offence was 
known." 

" That I perfectly understand, Captain; but yet I am somewhat 
timid, and I would be much obliged if you would introduce to 
me an officer with whom you, Captain, are personally acquainted, 
and to whom you would say that you personally know me." 

Mrs. Allen said all this in atone of decision, evidently intended 
to cut off all further question by the Captain. 

" Most certainly I will, with great pleasure," said the Captain. 
Then he added, so as to put her at her ease: "And undoubtedly 
you are right. It is the best way." 

In a few minutes the Captain reappeared, accompanied by Cap- 
tain George Casserly, of the San Francisco police. 

Ca^Dtain Casserly was as odd a genius as ever lived. I knew 
him well, as he was my fellow-passenger from New York around 
Cape Horn. He was full of fun, and, I may say, of absurdity, 
too. Nothing was business to him if it did not have a streak of 
waggery or some sort of excitement about it. He loved mystery, 
and was never so pleased as when his position in the Police De- 
partment led him into the secrets of San Francisco life. He was 
good-hearted and charitable to a fault, which often led him to 
overlook what his duty as a police officer should have made him 
see. He was careless to almost recklessness in all that related to 
himself, and never, apparently, gave a thought to the future. 

As the steamer Captain left Mrs. Allen, and went on deck, al- 
most the first person he met was Captain Casserly. In a few 
words he told him of Mrs. Allen's strange request. "For," said 
the Captain, " it would have been more natural if she had asked 
me to procure her an escort, or told me to send a messenger to 
let her husband know that she had arrived; but I saw she wanted 
no questions asked, so I want you. Captain, to let me have one 
of your force — some intelligent fellow — to see the lady home." 

At once Captain Casserly's face, usually almost stolid when in 
repose, lit up, and a bright twinkle of fun or pleasure danced in 
his eyes. 

" Fun on hand, sure," said he to himself. Then to the Cap- 
tain: " You know the lady, personally, I suppose, Captain?" 

" Most certainly I do; and she is of one of the best families in 
the State of New Jersey, and her husband you must know, Ed- 
mund F. Allen, who is a merchant in this city." 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA, 297 

" Allen!" exclaimed Casserly, iu a tone of surprise. "Of course 
I know him. He is of the firm of Allen, Wheeler & Co." 
" The same," said the Captain. 
" I will go with the lady myself, Captain; so introduce me." 

When the Captain introduced the police officer to Mrs. Allen, 
he did so iu a formal manner, at the same time saying something 
complimentary of him as an officer and as a man. Then, excus- 
ing himself on the score of pressing duties elsewhere, he ex- 
tended his hand to wish his passenger good-by. 

Mrs. Allen's manner and expression changed in a moment. 
She grasped his hand, and, in a sweet, cordial voice, thanked 
him warmly for all his attentions and many kindnesses to her 
and the children. 

"Do not speak of it, my dear Mrs. Allen. I did but my 
duty, and then I claim to be a personal friend of your hus- 
band's ; and for him I would be glad to do much more, if in 
my power. Please tell him I will call at his place of business 
and congratulate him on this happy termination of his misery. 
He will now be the envy of all grass widowers in San Fran- 
cisco." 

Mrs. Allen was on the point of asking him to call at the cot- 
tage, on Stockton street, but somehow she could not command 
the words. So, bowing with a smile, to acknowledge the Captain's 
compliment, she remained silent, and the Captain disappeared. 
Mrs. Allen now turned to the Police Captain, and, resuming her 
reserved manner, said, in a calm, steady voice: 

" Now, Captain, you know who I am; but I see it puzzles jou 
■why I sent for you ; but some other time I will explain. I am 
now in a hurry to leave this ship. I am under your protection, 
and I want you to so consider it until I say otherwise. I am 
giving you, and may give you, a great deal of trouble not prop- 
erly belonging to your duty as a police officer, which you will 
please not ask me to accept without compensation." 

As she spoke she handed him three twenty-dollar pieces. At 
first the Captain drew back. 

" I insist," she continued, as she reached out the money. 

The Captain then bowed, and took it. 

" I did so," said he, when ho was telling me the story, " for 
two good and sufficient reasons. In the first place, my doing so 
put the lady more at her ease, and then it is a bad habit for one 
to get, to refuse money when it is offered, no matter for what or 



298 PIONEER TIMES IN CALITOBNIA. 

from whom. ' Pay in advance,' is always my motto, and it is a 
good one, j^articularly in our profession." 

As the Captain dropped the money into his pocket, in a care- 
less way, he said: 

" Nothing surprises a police officer, Mrs. Allen. It is a part 
of his business not to be surprised. I am at your service, 
madam." 

Mrs. Allen then took from her pocket-book a half sheet of note 
paper and handed it to the Captain, saying : 

"Can you, Captain, go directly to the place designated in that 
paper?" 

The Captain read, just audiblj^ the following direction: 

" It is a nice little cottage on Stockton street, east of Wash- 
ington. It sets back a little from the street. The lot is inclosed 
by a neat fence. There are some flowers and rose bushes in 
front. The little gate is of a pretty Gothic pattern. The cot- 
tage and fence are all painted white." 

As he concluded reading the direction he said: 

"Certainly, I know the locality to an inch." 

While he was speaking, he walked over to where a lamp was 
suspended over the cabin table, and, raising the paper close to 
the light, scrutinized it closely, and then said, in a low tone: 

" I thought I was not mistaken; so this is some more of ' De- 
tective Bucket's ' work. I begin to understand now." 

"Well, then," said Mi's. Allen, "please procure a carriage 
that will take you, the children and myself to that place, with as 
little delay as possible." 

The Captain left the cabin to obey, without a word. As he 
reached the wharf, he seemed lost in thought, and said, half 
aloud : 

" Yes, I begin to work this case up. That is old ' Mother 
Bucket's' handwriting, sure. I have got too many notes from 
her not to know it. I recollect, now, that, before she went East, 
she told me one day about that cottage, and something about Al- 
len's having an ' over-dressure creature,' as she called her, for a 
housekeeper. I took but little notice of it at the time, as I do 
of all she says, but now it throws light upon this case. She will 
get herself into a scrape, yet. I will snub her when she comes 
back, so that she will be glad to mind her own business. AVell, 
Allen is a real good fellow, so I must try and help him out of 
this scrape. I see this must be another ' Briggs case;' 710 doubt 



PIONEER TIMES IK CALIFORNIA. 299 

of it, and it is also easy to see that his wife (heavens! what a 
beautiful woman she is) is determined to catch him, but, I must 
save him, and it will spare her feelings too. " 

As he spoke, he blew his whistle and in a moment a policeman 
approached him. 

"Ah Jim! that is you. Well, go right off to Mallet's livery 
stable, in Kearny street, and tell him to send me, here to the 
steajTier, that best carriage of his, but you need not hurry him, 
particularly. Then go as fast as you can to that little white cot- 
tage in Stockton street, half a block east of Washington, in 
which Mr. Allen lives; call for that gentleman, and when 
he comes to the door, just say to him, so that no one else 
can hear you : ' Captain Casserly desires me to say to you that 
your wife has arrived in the steamer, and is now on her way to 
this house in a carriage with him.' If Mr. Allen is not at home, 
do not say a word to any one else, but come to the corner of 
Stockton and Washington streets, and, as the carriage turns the 
corner, get into a fit of coughing. I will notice you and under- 
stand that you did not find Allen." Without asking explanation, 
on the policeman started, to do as he was directed. Mallet was 
too glad to get the order for his fine carriage, the best then in 
San Francisco, not to make all the haste he could, so that he was 
on hand much sooner than Captain Casserly wished. During all 
this delay, Mrs. Allen seemed to suffer more and more anxiety. 
Her eyes were almost wild with an excited expression of half- 
alarmed, searching scrutiny as every new face aj)peared in the 
cabin. 

" Oh!" she exclaimed, "how long the Captain is in getting the 
carriage! What if Edmund happened to come here, looking for 
some expected friend !" 

And at the thought she shrank back into her state-room. 

" Oh! how could I meet him here! No; I must hurry away. We 
must meet each other when no one else is present, for then I 
will be the happiest woman that lives on earth, or," here shestop- 
j)ed a moment, as if to overcome a choking sensation in her throat; 
then continued, in a trembling whisper : "or I will just die at his 
feet. Oh, God be my guide and helper!" 

Captain Casserly now appeared, and announced the carriage 
as all ready. In the kindest and most considerate manner he 
helped Mrs. Allen to remove her children and all her things to 
the carriage. As soon as the carriage was in motion, Mrs. Allen, 



300 PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 

overcome by her thoughts, lay back with a sort of gasp or heavy 
sigh that was almost a groau. The Captain's sympathy was 
awakened to the utmost, and he could not resist saying: 

"My dear madam, it is useless to say that I do not partly di- 
vine your thoughts; but you may be totally deceived in what you 
fear; and, anyway, for the sake of these dear children, try to face 
it, whatever it may be, with calmness and courage." 

There was a tone of hearty good feeling and sympathy in the 
Captain's words that touched her sweetly; for in her trouble there 
was a lonesome, oppressive feeling about her heart that they 
seemed somewhat to relieve. 

" Thank you. Captain ; you are very kind," said Mrs. Allen, 
making a great effort to recover her self -composure. "I trust 
and hope, and I believe, I shall find my husband perfectly well." 

She thus avoided recognizing that the Captain might under- 
stand the true cause of her fears. 

Just then the carriage turned the corner of Stockton and 
Washington streets, and they all observed a man standing near, 
in a violent fit of coughing. 

" Why, Mamma," said little Alice, " that man is choking." 

" I think not, my love; it is only a bad cough." 

Captain Casserlysaid to himself: "I see my plan is overboard. 
Well, we must only face the music. Another Briggs' case, it 
must be, then. I will do as Captain Howard did; I will send the 
dame flying from the house." 

Now, my young readers, I am sure you want to know how it 
comes that a lady like Mrs. Allen appears in San Francisco with- 
out her husband's knowledge, in such wild excitement and deep 
anxiety. Let us go back some years in our history, and we shall 
ascertain. 



Chapter ii. 



EDMUND ALLEN — A BEAUTIFUL^ -GIRL. 



Captain Monroe Allen, a retired sea captain, was a well-to-do 
farmer, living some twelve miles from Newark, New Jerse3^ He 
had a good wife and five children. The third boy, Edmund 
Franklin, they educated with a view to a mercantile life. So, 
after a course of good training at a commercial school, they found 
a place for him with the Captain's old employers, when he fol- 
lowed the sea, Gould, Fox & Co., wholesale dealers in drygoods, 
Pearl street, New York. 

Edmund was a keen, shrewd, active, bright boy — handsome in 
person, oflf-hand and most polite in manners. 

He made a good use of every hour of his time, and became a 
great favorite with the firm . So, three years passed, and now 
Edmund had almost reached his majority, when one mornijig 
Mr. Gould called him into the office, and, in a pompous, meas- 
ured sort of a way, asked him to be seated. Then, in the same 
sort of tone, but in words very complimentary to Edmund, went 
on to say that, in consultation, the firm had decided to advance 
him to the position of head salesman, with, of course, a corres- 
ponding increase of salary. 

Edmund's face lit up -with a pleasant, expressive light, and he 
thanked Mr. Gould, and all the members of the firm, in the most 
cordial way, for the kindness intended, but told Mr. Gould that 
he could not avail himself of the offer, as he had made up his 
mind to at once start into something for himself, should it bo in 
ever so small a way. 

" My father," continued Edmund, '* says that the time for a 
man to make his fotrune is from the age of twenty-one to forty- 
five — only just twenty-four years. So, you see, Mr. Gould, I 
have no time to lose, and must, if I can, begin to make my fight 
at once." 

Mr. Gould looked surprised, and a little put out. Then he 



302 PIONEEE TIMES IN CALTFOBNIA. 

said, in a changed tone of voice — it had lost its pompous, pat- 
ronizing sound, and was now familiar, friendly and respect- 
ful : 

" That is all true, Edmund; but the question is. How had you 
better begin this battle for fortune you are so anxious to win ? 
Had 3'ou better stay with us, and advance surely, if slowly, or 
risk an encounter with the world of business while you ai'e yet 
so 3'oung and inexperienced ? You know, from your father's 
stories of the sea, that a young captain sometimes runs great 
risks, with a ship in his command, for the purpose of making a 
quick voyage; and, in so doing, often loses all, even reputation; 
while the old and experienced commanders run but few, if any, 
risks, and almost always reach their destination in safety, and 
with honor." 

" Yes, sir ; I am sure you are right," said Edmund; "but I do 
not aspire to the command of a ship right away ; but I thought 
I wovild begin to learn how to coimnand one, by running a little 
craft of my own — a sort of a little schooner — close to the shore, 
and only venturing out to sea when I felt I was sufficiently skill- 
ful in command, and well provisioned, too." 

Mr. Gould smiled, and said : 

"It is easy to see, Edmund, that you are the son of an old 
seaman; not only from your illustration, but that you inherit a 
touch of his daring enterprise and self-reliance, all which I like, 
when tempered with good jDrinciple and guided by honor, as I 
feel sure it will be in your case; but tell me, what is your 
plan ? " 

Edmund then explained to Mr. G-ould that a friend of his, who 
was a clerk in a dryg-oods store, was about to be married to his 
twin sister, and that he had proposed to him a partnership wliich, 
with his father's a2:)proval, he had accepted; and, in pursuance 
of this idea, they intended to open a retail dry goods store in 
Newark, New Jersey. His father, he said, was to furnish him 
with three thousand dollars, and his intended brother-in-law was 
to put a like sum in the business. 

After some further consultation, Mr. Gould approved of Ed- 
mund's project, and shook hands with him warmly, assui'ing him 
of his regret at his learing, and promising him decided help, 
whenever he should need it, in any way that their firm could be 
useful. 

Edmund's twenty-first birthday came, and soon after was 



1 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 303 

opened, in Newark, a well-stocked retail dry goods store, over 
the door of which appeared, on a plain but neat sign, the name of 
the firm, "Allen & Roman." This was in the Spring of the year 
1844. 

Success seemed to crown the efforts of the young merchants. 
They kept their credit with all their city business connections, 
as the insurance men would say at " A No. 1." Their store soon 
became the most attractive in that old town. Ladies found that 
they could do full as well, and, many contended, far better, by 
making their purchases at Allen & Roman's than by going 
to New York for the purpose, as they had heretofore mostly 
done. Among their lady customers, happened in two that some- 
how paiiiciilarly drew Edmund's attention. They were a mother 
and daughter. The mother was a tall, large woman, well foi-med; 
but had something almost masculine in her manner and tone of 
voice. At the same time, she was stylish and lady-like, and de- 
cidedly good-looking, but rather imperious in her bearing to 
all around her. The daughter seemed almost the opposite in 
some respects. She was rather below the average height. Her 
voice was peculiarly sweet, musical and soft. In figure and face 
she was surpassingly beautiful. She seemed to love to please 
every one of both sexes, but particularly, perhaps, gentlemen. 
This Mrs. Morehouse was the wife of a retired lawyer and now 
silent partner in a large carriage manufactory in his native town, 
Newark. The Morehouses lived in very handsome style in a 
beautiful mansion in the outskirts of the town. WillardS. More- 
house was a man of sterling good sense and of remarkably fine 
judgment. He was an affectionate husband and a fond, devoted 
father. They had four children, all yet at school, except Ada, 
who was now the constant companion of her mother. Ada had 
heard so much, from her lady friends, of Allen & Roman's 
beautiful stock of goods, that one day she requested her mother 
to go to the store to look for some articles they vrished to pur- 
el ase. She had heard, also, of the fine, handsome, young mer- 
chant who was one of the partners in the firm, but, of coui-se, 
this had nothing to do with her desire to visit the store. Any- 
way, if it had, she did not know it, for we arc oftenled by some 
secret, half-hidden feeling, in our daily walks through life, with- 
out our knowing, ourselves, what it is that leads us. Perhaps, 
if we chose to be watchful, and were determined to know, we 
would not be deceived as often as we are. But Ada Morehouse 



304 PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFOKNIA. 

saw no particular use in examining into the real cause of ber de- 
sire to visit this famous dry-goods store, Avhen she proposed it 
to her mother. She knew she wanted to purchase some articles 
of dress, and she knew she preferred to look for them at Allen 
& Roman's, and that was all she cared to know. The mother at 
once acceded to her wishes. On entering the store, the ladies 
found attentive, gentlemanly clerks, who seemed most anxious to 
please and to exhibit their goods to the best advantage. Mrs. 
Morehouse found what she wanted, and made her purchases. 
Ada was not, at fii'st, so fortunate. She asked for a particular 
style of glove, of a peculiar color and shade, intended to match 
one of her dresses, and the clerk could not find it. That day, 
Mr. Roman was in the City of New York, making j)urchases, and 
Edmund was seated in the office, looking over some accounts. 
The door of the office was open, so that he could hear what was 
said in the store, if he chose to give it his attention. Mrs. More- 
house's voice was unnoticed by him, except that he thought it 
sounded imperious and loud, but it in no way disturbed him at his 
work. But, now he started, as his ear caught the sound of the sweet- 
est voice he had ever heard. What was it that was so peculiar about 
it ? What was in it that so aroused him ? He asked himself 
those very questions over and over for days afterwards, bat he 
could not satisfy himself with an answer. Certain it is that it 
vibrated on some nerve of his system never before disturbed, 
and certain it is that it produced a sweet feeling of pleasure 
never before felt by him. He arose from his seat and walked 
into the store. As he entered, Ada was yet speaking, and he saw 
that it was her voice that so attracted him. Taking his clerk's 
place, he opened box after box of gloves, but none exactly suited. 
This led naturally to a conversation on gloves, which seemed 
wonderfully interesting to both. Edmund held Ada's eyes on 
his own handsome face while he gave her a full and very inter- 
esting description of the great glove manufactories of France. 
Neither Edmund nor Ada, two hours before, would have believed 
that it was possible for them to be much interested in glove- 
making, yet now it seemed to be of absorbing interest. On, on, 
they talked, turning box after box of gloves over and over, mix- 
ing all sorts together, to the horror of the clerks, who were 
looking on, and yet never finding the right pair. Mrs. More- 
house began to grow impatient, and said: 

" Ada, dear, will you never get through with those gloves?" 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALLFOUNIA. 



305 



" Yes, dear mother, in a moment." 

Just then Edmund held up a pair, saying: 

"This is a beautiful shade of blue, and, I think, very nearly 
■what you want." 

" Well," said Ada, " on your recommendation, I will take it." 

She said this with the slightest possible emphasis on " your," 
and, for an instant only, their eyes met, and Edmund thought a 
slight blush heightened the color of Ada's cheek, and then there 
was a queer feeling about his own heart he never felt before. It 
was not pain, or, if it was pain, it made him feel happy. 

Mrs. Morehouse had made several i^urchases, so that Edmund 
sent the errand boy home with the ladies to take the parcel. 
That evening, Mrs. Morehouse observed that Ada was very 
thoughtful, and, half divining the cause, said to her: 

"Why, Ada, what is the matter with you? Why is your 
piano shut down at this hour, and why so thoughtful, my child?" 

"Mother, dear, I do not feel exactly well to-night, and, with 
3"our permission, I will retire for the night, for I am, beside, 
somewhat tired and weary." 

So saying, Ada left for her own room. As she entered it, she 
threw herself into a softly cushioned rocking-chair, and there 
sat motionless for a long hour, in deep thought. Once she mur- 
mured, half audibly: 

" They will say he is only a struggling, retail storekeeper, the 
son of a farmer and all that sort of stuff. What if he is; they 
will have to admit he is a fine, manly-looking fellow, and suc- 
cessful, too, in his business. For my j^art, I hate the sight of 
those rich men who come home with father, to see me. They are 
old enough to be my father; and I despise still more those rich 
men's sons. They are mostly dissipated, worthless fellows, and I 
can see that father himself does not love them. There are 
exceptions, of course, but they are mighty few." 

Ada again fell into a brown study. Then, suddenly arousing 
herself, she began her preparations for the night, and, as she did 
so, she murmured: 

" Well, when next I see him, I may not like him half so well; 
so 1 will dismiss those foolish thoughts. They annoy me, too, 
for he is the first man that ever bothered me in this way." 

But, that night, Ada was again sorting gloves in dreams. 
When Ada loft her mother, in the parlor, Mrs. Morehouse was 
waiting for her husband to return from New York, where he had 
20 



SOb tlONEER TIMES IN CALIFOENIA. 

gone that day. She now threw down the paper she had been 
reading, and, drawing her easy chair near to to the fire, she fised 
herself in the most comfortable position and fell into deep 
thought. After awhile she said aloud : 

"I do believe the child is half caught at last. It is strange, 
too, by just a retail drygoods dealer. Well, I do not half blame 
her; those rich old fellows her father keeps bringing here are 
enough to disgust her. What does a handsome young girl like 
Ada want with them ? And then, as to those impudent, idle, 
worthless, rich young men, who come here, if there was not 
another man in creation, I would not let one of them have her. 
They have no recommendation but their wealth, which they are 
sure to get rid of, and, if they do retain it, they use it in such a 
manner that it is, in fact, a curse to them. No, I will s];>eak to 
Willard on this subject; now that our children are beginning to 
mix with (.he world, we had better encourage the acquaintance 
of the sort of young men and girls, too, for there are our sons 
to be considered, we would be satisfied with for members of our 
family. Those rich girls who think of nothing but dress and 
fashion, and society, and do not know the first thing about house- 
keeping, I have an utter contempt for. AVhat sort of wives 
would they make? They say we are rich, and I suj)pose we are, 
but I would be ashamed if I had brought up my daughter in that 
sort of way." 

Mrs. Morehouse seemed again to sink into thought. Then, 
after a little time, she spoke aloud : 

"If Willard thinks as I do, I will never again invite to our 
house those rich young scapegraces, and Miss Dollies of girls, 
even if their fathers are rich . I will extend our acquaintance 
among the good and worthy, whether rich or poor. Yes; and 
then when we give a party, I will only invite such to it, no mat- 
ter whom it hurts; for what is the use of being rich, if we can not 
do as we like, and use our riches to encourage the good and vir- 
tuous, whether rich or poor ?" 

Just then, Mr. Morehouse arrived and it may safely be set 
down that a man of his sense fully endorsed his wife's views, 
and authorized her to proceed in society matters, in the future, 
as she herself had planned to do. 



CHAPTER III. 



A TROUBLESOME COLUMN OF FIGURES. 

When Mrs. Morehouse and Ada left the store, Edmund went 
"back to bis accounts. He had some long lines of figures to add 
up. He commenced his work with seven and nine are sixteen, 
and five are twenty-one, and eight and eight and eight. Then, 
looking vacant, he said: 

" What dazzling eyes! Oh! what am I thinking of ? Let me 
see where I was; oh, yes, here it is. Seven and nine are six- 
teen and five are twenty-one, and eight, yes, and eight. I never 
heard such a voice; it was all music. Why, I will never get this 
outrageous account added up; I cannot put it off either, so here 
it goes, and now I will attend to it. Seven and nine are sixteen, 
and five are twenty-one, and eight would be just twenty-nine, 
and six, and six, and six — what a smile she had! I could have 
just stood there all day looking at her; and that dark, brown 
hair, I believe she just fixed it up so as to set a fellow craz3\ 
Well, what am I about? I believe I am crazy. Now, I must at- 
tend to my accounts. What in the world is that girl to me ?" 

He then went on, very loud, and with a voice of strong deter- 
mination: 

" Seven and nine are sixteen, and five are twenty-one, and 
eight (with a yet louder voice) are twenty-nine, and six are 
thirty-five, and nine, and nine, and nine — I think she did blush 
just a little, when she took that pair I recommended to her, and 
I wish she did not," he continued angrily, " for I believe that 
girl has just put me out of my head. Where in the mischief 
was I in m}^ accounts? Well, now, no more of this fooling, or 
Eoman will be here before I get this account added up. Seven 
and nine are sixteen, and five are twenty-one, and eight are 
twenty-nine, and six are thirty-five, and nine are forty-four, and 
three are forty-seven, and seven, and seven — I saw her foot as 
she went out of the door, and I know she does not wear over 



308 PIONEER TIMES IN CALIEOKNIA. 

a two or two-and-a-half shoe. Her hand, too, was a model of 
beauty. What, in the name of merc}?^, ami about! I may as 
well give up those accounts." 

Just then he thought he heard suppressed laughter behind 
him, and, turning quickly around, there stood his sister, Mrs. 
Roman, who now gave way, unrestrained, to a fit of merry 
laughter. 

" Why, Edmund," she said, " what has befallen you ? Who 
is this Venus that has so upset your accounts ?" 

Edmund looked confounded, but, trying to recover himself, 
said: 

" Alice, how long have you been there ?" 

" Since you began to try to add up that line of figures, and 
you did make sad work of it. It was as good as a play to hear 

you." 

Then she laughed again, and, throwing herself into a chair 
near him, she began: 

" Seven and nine are sixteen; I shall never forget that anyway; 
and so she has dazzling eyes, dark, brown hair, a bewitching 
smile, a number two foot, and model hands. To tell you the 
truth, bro-ther Edmund, I am glad j'ou are caught; but who is 
she? I want to know." 

" If you did know, sister Alice, you would know more than I 
do." 

" Nonsense, brother; now, that I know you are caught, you 
may as well make a confidant of me. I agree to help you if I 
approve," she added, with emphasis. 

" Alice, you are too bad. How did you know all that about 
her eyes, hair, hands and foot ? I will admit that it is all true, 
but how did you know it ?" 

" I read your thoughts, brother Edmund, that is all. Was not 
I standing behind your chair while you were blundering over 
those figures, and mixing them up with the praises of the sweet- 
heart you have found somewhere ?" 

" Well, Alice, you know I never keep anything from you, and 
if there was anything in particular to tell in this matter I would 
not sleep until I had a talk with you about it; but, in truth, 
there is nothing." 

Edmund then went on to tell his sister of his two lady custom- 
ers, and concluded: 

" I will just acknowledge to you that I cannot account for my 



PIONEERTIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 309 

taking so much notice of this young lady. I never saw her be- 
fore. I do not even know who she is, or what her name is, but 
that I heard her mother call her Ada." 

" Not a bad name," said Alice. *' Where is the boy who took 
the goods home? Call him in, Edmund." 

The boy appeared, and Edmund questioned him as to where 
the ladies he went with lived. The boy then described their 
residence as a beautiful house, surrounded by grounds, with 
flowers and shrubbery, beautifully kept. " The ladies," said the 
boy, " wanted to take the parcel from me at the garden gate, 
but I knew, sir," he continued, with a half-cunning smile on his 
face, " that you wanted to know who that young lady was, so I 
refused to let them, and walked up to the door, and saw on the 
silver door-j^late the name of ' Willard S. Morehouse.' " 

" That is all right, Tom; you are a good boy, but what put it 
into your head that I wanted to know the name of that young 
lady, as you say ?" 

" I do not know, sir; but you looked so kind of sorry when 
she left the store." 

" Go, go, Tom, and don't mind how I look in future, but attend 
to your own business." 

As the boy left, Edmund could not help joining his sister in a 
hearty laugh. 

" That is a good boy," said he, " but he is as cunning as a pet 
fox, and will get himself into a scrape some day watching other 
people's business, instead of attending to his own." 

" Now," said iUice, "you know who she is; that is one satis- 
faction; she is Miss Ada Morehouse; I know her father is rich, 
but they are a sort of haughty, distant people. I know some- 
thing of them through an old schoolmate of mine, Sarah Wil- 
liams, who is Mrs. Morehouse's niece. She was married, you 
recollect, the same day I was." 

" Yes, dear Alice, I recollect, but do not trouble yourself any 
more about the girl, for the last thing I will ever do is to go 
after a rich wife." 

"But, if a girl is all right in every other way, would you re- 
fuse to love her just because she happened to be rich, or have 
rich parents, as in this case?" 

" No; not exactly that; but I will avoid all such girls, if I can; 
for the girl herself and her friends will be sure to think your at- 
tentions have a mercenary object in view, and there are plenty 



810 PIONEER TIMES IX CALIFORNIA. 

of nice, well-educated girls to choose from, who have not a dol- 
lar to quarrel about." 

" Well," said Alice, " 1 will not argue with you, Edmund, for 
there may be something in what you say, and, if you get so that 
you can add up your accounts correctly, and not mix up Miss Ada 
Morehouse's praises with them, it is all well." 

" Yes, dear sister, I will think no more of this foolish fancy, 
and I may never see her again; but I do say, Alice, she is one 
of the most charming girls I ever saw. I wish you knew her, 
Alice, just to see if you would agree with me. I have dismissed 
the whole matter from my mind, so please do not let Alfred 
know anything of it, or he would bother me, when, the fact is, 
I think no more about the girl. Strange you never heard of her 
before, Alice. Her voice is harmony and music itself; 1 started 
when first I heard it. Why, said I to myself, that sounds like 
what I would fancy was the voice of an angel." 

" I see," said Alice, with a merry look beaming in her eye, 
"that you have wholly, as you say, Edmund, dismissed the 
young lady from your mind. " 

"Yes, wholly, I assure you, sister; I have something else to 
do than running after any girl, and particularly a rich girl, 
whose parents would turn up their proud noses at the bare 
thought of getting a retail drygoods man for their daughter's 
husband. No, I have, as we talk here, almost forgotten that I 
ever saw the girl. What drew my attention so particularly to 
her, for the few moments I did think of her, was her hand; I do 
wish you could have seen it. I always thought you had a beau- 
tiful hand, and that mother's hand was beautiful; but, Alice, I 
do wish you could have seen hers while she was trying on the 
gloves; such a model in shape, such delicacy of tinge of color! 
Yes, I wish, sister, you could have seen it just as a matter of 
curiosity, you know. Well, as I said, I have dismissed the whole 
subject fi'om my thoughts. I only wish you could have seen her 
figure and form; they were faultless in every particular," 

" Edmund," said his sister, laughing outright, and laying her 
hand on his shoulder, "don't you see, for mercy's sake, that you 
are half out of your head about this girl ?/ 

" Why, Alice, I am surprised at you. Did I not tell you just 
now that I had dismissed all thoughts of her, and was going to 
say no more about her?" 

" Yes; but you continue to talk of her." 



m 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA 311 

" Oh, well, that was just for your satisfaction, and to let you 
know how really beautiful she is; but mind, you are not to tell 
your husband, and I am to think of her no more." 

"Well, we shall see how that turns out, brother Edmund," said 
Alice, a J she arose to meet her husband, who was then just en- 
tering the store on his return from New York. 

Alice now took her husband's arm, Avho was going to accom- 
pany her home; and, as she did so, turned to her brother, and 
said : 

" Edmund, when you come to dinner, the first thing I will ask 
you is, if you have that line of figures added up yet, and if you 
are sure that seven and nine make sixteen." 

Edmund shook his head significantly, and laid his finger across 
his lips in token that he plead for silence. Of course, the first 
thing Mrs. Roman did was to tell her husband all about Edmund 
and Ada Morehouse, concluding with "Now, Alfred, do not pre- 
tend to know a word of all this, for Edmund begged of me not 
to tell you; just as if it was jDOSsible for a married woman to 
keep such things from her husband." 

Alice said this with a tone of pitj? for her brother's ignor- 
ance. 

"Of course, my love," said Alfred; " it would be very wrong 
to keep anything from me." 

" O, yes ; you say so, dear; but do you tell me everything ? " 
laying emphasis on every. 

"Why, of course, love, everything it is proper for me to 
tell." 

" Then you do keep some things from me, Alfred ? " said Alice, 
sorrowfully. 

"Nothing, dear; nothing that is of consequence to you to 
know do I ever keep from you." 

" Well, that is right, dear Alfred; that is my idea exactly — no 
secrets between man and wife . " 

" Yes, love; a wife should never have a secret that was not to 
be shared with her husband." 

" Yes," said Alice, "we agree on that point exactly — as we do 
in everything; don't we, love? " 

"Certainly, my darling wife, we do." Then he continued: 
"Now, as to Edmund ; I do not know what may be the result, 
for I never knew him to bo so attracted before by any girl. So this 
may have struck in, as they say; and yet it may glance off, and 
not be heard of again. We shall see." 



CHAPTER IV. 



THE POOR WIDOW — MK. MOEEHOUSE AND EDMUND. 

When Edmund Allen appeared for dinner at his sister's house, 
where he boarded, Alice saw that he was making efforts to ap- 
j)ear, as he always did, cheerful and happy. He made a failure 
of it, however; and Alice remarked that his great pet, the baby, 
remained almost unnoticed. All that night Edmund was turn- 
ing box after box of gloves over in his dreams. When he 
awoke the next morning, the first thing he said was: 

" Well, confound those gloves. I am so glad I have dismissed 
all thoughts of that girl from my mind. It would just have un- 
fitted me for business, if I had allowed my head to run on think • 
ing of her." 

Strange to tell, Edmund happened, hj accident, of course, to 
walk by Mr. Morehouse's residence that evening, the next even- 
ing, and the next. On the third evening of this accidental w^alk, 
he met Miss Morehouse, with some lady friend, returning from 
a walk. Just then. Miss Morehouse dropped her handkerchief, 
by accident, of course, and walked on, not observing it. In an 
instant Edmund picked it up, and, raising his hat, presented it 
to her with a smile, in which there was a half-recoguition. 

"Thank you, Mr. Allen," said Ada, with what was to poor 
Edmund a bewitching manner. 

In a moment the ladies were out of sight. Edmund now walked 
on fast, and apparently wrapped in some exciting thought. 

"How well my name sounded when she spoke it," he said, 
half aloud. "What if I could hear her call me Edmund ? I 
would just like to hear how it would sound when spoken by her. 
I never liked the name; but I do believe I would be satisfied 
with it forever afterwards if I once heard it spoken by her." 

In a few days after this accidental meeting, Ada and her 
cousin, Mrs. Eaton, who had been Alice's schoolmate, called at 
Allen & Eoman's, and made a good many purchases for the 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 313 

benefit of a poor widow and children, who were destitute of 
clothes. 

Edmund, unasked, subscribed liberally himself, and every one 
in the store f^ave something. Then he helped the ladies in making 
the selections, for he had now a sort of joint interest in the mat- 
ter, and found himself, before he knew it, in most charmiu!?, 
half confidential talks with Miss Morehouse. An hour passed, 
and yet the widow's clothes were not half selected. Happy 
widow! you will be well paid for the happiness your necessities 
bring two young, sympathetic hearts; for while their eyes, their 
thoughts, are all for each other, they purchase and bestow on 
you without limit. 

That evening, after dinner, Edmund found himself alone with 
his sister. He asked her to play and sing for him. She threw 
open her piano, and sang and played the songs and pieces he 
asked for. Suddenly she turned to him with: "Why, Edmund, 
do you ask for all those sad and plaintive songs ? What is the 
matter with you, my brother?" And as she sjDoke a smile played 
on her handsome face. Then she added: " How much are seven 
and nine ?" 

Edmund let his head drop on his hand while his arm rested on 
the piano, and did not at once speak. Then he said, in a low 
voice: 

"Alice, dear sister, do not laugh at me ; but help me. You 
know you said you would." 

"And so I will, my darling brother,'^ she said, as she leaned 
over and kissed his cheek ; " so let us be serious, and tell me 
all, so that I will know what to do." 

" There is little to tell, dear sister, but that I cannot stop 
thinking, day or night, of Ada Morehouse." 

" Have you seen her since ? " 

" Only twice; once, by accident, near her house, and to-day, in 
our store." 

"Did you speak when you met her by this accident, as you 
call it?" And here again a smile beamed on Alice's face. 

Edmund looked at her, reproachfully, and said: 

" It was quite an accident, I assure yon. Yes; I picked up 
her handkerchief, and when I handed it to her she thanked me 
by name, in the sweetest voice." 

" Was she friendly, to-day, in her manner to you ?" 

" She was sweetness itself, Alice; but I cannot say that it was 



314: PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA.. 

anything particular to me, for I believe she cannot be anj-ihing 
else to any one. For my part, while she was in the store, I 
neither saw nor heard any one else, and, Alice, once or twice 
she stood very near me and whispered in my ear something 
about the widow^s necessities, in the most confidential way. 
How it was I do not know, but I felt happier at that moment 
than I ever did in my life." 

" Enough," said Alice; " I see the case plainly, brother; and 
there is only one cure for it." 

" And what is that, sister?" 

" That you go to work and convince her that you truly love 
her, and then that you ask her to marry you. If she accepts 
you, 3'ou can then love her at your leisure all your life long. If 
she rejects you — " 

" Well/' interrupted Edmund, "exactly; if she rejects me, 
what then ?" 

"Why, brother dear, you will have to do as other men have 
done before you — get over your first love and find another angel 
who will value and return what the first rejects." 

" Sister Alice, I see 3'ou don't understand this case, for if yon 
did you would know that if Ada Morehouse refuses to love me, 
I will die an old bachelor, as sure as you and I sit here." 

" Well, brother, that is all right. I have no wish to dispute 
your belief in that respect for the present. Now, what you want 
is to get better acquainted with Miss Morehouse, and to give her 
a better opportunity of knowing you; so I will turn the matter 
over in my mind and see what can be done." 

" Grood night, sister," said Edmund, kissing her. "I feel 
ever so much happier since I told you all." 

" It is, in fact, love on first sight," murmured Alice after Ed- 
mund was gone, " a thing I never believed in before." 

The next day Mrs. Roman called on Mrs. Eaton, her old 
schoolmate, and invited her to a social lunch, to give them, as 
she said, a chance to talk over old school days. 

Mrs. Eaton said: "Oh, that will be nice; I will go, by all 
means." 

Then Alice went on to say: "I understand you have a beauti- 
ful cousin, a Miss Morehouse. Please get her to come with you; 
I would so like to know her." 

" I will try; and perhaps my aunt will come, too." 

" Oh, that will be yet more gratifying, I assure you," said 
Alice. 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 315 

The next day, afc the appointed hour. Alice had a beautiful 
lunch, and all the ladies she had invited were there, including 
Ada and her mother. On their return home, both Mrs. More- 
house and Ada pronounced Mrs. Roman a chainning lady and 
one of the sweetest of women. Then followed a lunch at Mrs. 
Morehouse's; then an evening party of a few friends at Mrs. 
Eaton's. Mr. and Mrs. Roman were invited, but Mrs. Roman 
sent an apology to say tliat she had no escort, as her husband 
had an engagement for that evening. Then came a note from 
jMrs. Eaton to ask Mrs. Roman to get her brother to escort her. 
Edmund did take her, and then for the first time met Ada in 
jDrivate social life. To him she looked more charming than ever. 
She was all life and wit, and seemed to enjoy herself to the ut- 
most. Some lady friends, who knew that she sang and phiyed 
beautifully, requested her to give them some music. Just as she 
was going to take her seat, she addressed Edmund, saying: "Are 
you fond of music, Mr. Allen?" 

" Passionately fond of it," responded Edmund. 

** Then come near me, and ask for what you like best." 

Edmund's heart bounded at this compliment. He took his 
place near her, but his memory was sadly at fault, and he feared 
she thought him absolutely stupid, for not one piece of music or 
song could he bring to his memory to ask for; so, growing des- 
perate at this thought, he resolved to be candid, even at the risk 
of giving offence; so, stooj)ing as if it were to get her a piece of 
music, he said, just loud enough for her to hear him: "The 
truth is, Miss Ada, that when I am near you I know nothing 
and can remember nothing, but that I am near you." 

As quick as thought, her eyes flashed on his face. She thought 
that perhaps it was an idle compliment, which would have been 
offensive in so new an acquaintance. But no; her unerring 
woman's perception told her that what he said he meant, for in 
his eyes was an honest, truthful expression, that said in answer 
to her look: " Yes; what I said is from my heart." 

Tlien, as she looked back on her music, a flush crimsoned her 
face, and she proceeded for a minute in evident agitation. In 
another minute, however, she had regained her self-composure 
and repaid him for his compliment vn'di a sweet smile, and all the 
evening she was a happy girl, and her dreams that night were of 
a paradise on earth. Following this party came some weeks of 
happiness almost unalloyed to Ada and Edmund. Edmund was 



316 PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 

now a constant and welcome visitor at Mr. Morehouse's. Ada 
had several suitors besides Edmund, all richer than he, but she 
discarded them all, one after the other. If Ada's parents had 
not been rich, Edmund would have long since proposed for her. 
Thinking over this one day, he resolved to go to her father and 
have a plain talk with him. Knowing his habits, he knew when 
to find him in his library. Mr. Morehouse was somewhat sur- 
prised at the call, but received him cordially and handed him a 
chair. Without a word of preface, Edmund went on to say: 

" Mr. Morehouse, I came to speak to you of a matter of the 
utmost importance to me, and shall be perfectly open and candid, 
and will deem your taking what I say under consideration a 
great favor." 

"I promise, unreservedly, Mr. Allen, to do that with pleas- 
ure." 

" Thank you, Mr. Morehouse; your family have always been 
kind to me since I was so fortunate as to make their acquaintance, 
and it cannot, I think, have escaped your notice that Miss Ada's 
society has been peculiarly attractive to me." 

Mr. Morehouse bowed in assent, and said : 

" Mr. Allen, from the turn I see this conversation is likely to 
take, I would wish, if you have no objection, that Mrs. More- 
house should be present; for, to say truth, I have a great reliance 
on a mother's judgment in these matters, and deem it her right 
to have the fullest opportunity of judging of them for herself. 
And then my wife and I, sir, have made it a rule of life to share 
with each other all responsibilities." 

"No objection, Mr. Morehouse, for it is just what I would 
wish." 

Mr. Morehouse soon returned with his wife, who saluted Ed- 
mund in the kindest manner, and took her seat by her husband, 
leaning her arm on his chair. 

" I have explained, Mr. Allen, to Mrs. Morehouse, the nature 
of your visit, so you can proceed in what you wish to say. We 
are all attention, sir." 

"I have just spoken, Mrs. Morehouse, of the kindness and 
courtesy you have all shown me since I had the good fortune of 
your acquaintance ; and I was going to explain that it was far 
from me to desire to intrude, in an unwished-for way, on 
the notice of your family; but I come here to acknowledge to 
you, plainly and candidly, as it becomes a man of honor to do. 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 317 

that Miss Ada has become the object of my heart's truest love. 
I have not told her so, nor spoken to her of such feelings, but I 
am most desirous of doing so, if I can get your approval and 
consent. From the moment I first got acquainted with her I felt 
her extraordinary power over me. I tried to avoid her, and not 
to think of her, because I saw that you had a right to look higher 
than one in my position for the husband of your daughter, and 
such a daughter as I saw her to be. But in this I utterly 
failed." 

Pausing for an instant, he continued, without a shadow of 
diffidence, but with an earnest voice, that trembled with deep 
feeling and evident emotion : 

" So, as bold as the proposition may seem to you, I come to 
seek your consent to ask her for her hand in marriage. I would 
rather die than do this, if I did not feel sure that, under God, 
her happiness would be safe in my hands. I am not rich, it is 
true; but I projDOse to satisfy you that I am doing a good, pros- 
perous business, which will afford me ample means of supporting 
a family in all the comforts, if not the luxuries, of life. A'nd, if 
I am successful in this suit, I want it distinctly understood that 
I neither look for nor will I accept any pecuniary endowment 
with the rich treasure of your daughter's hand. I come to you, 
friends, as your kindness to me gives me the right to style you, 
not rich, but with an honorable, untarnished name, a brave heart 
to encounter the vicissitudes of life, and with a vow of fidelity 
and truth, that I trust in God will remain unbroken till life's 
close, to ever promote the happiness and shield and protect her 
whose hand I seek here to-day. " 

Happy mother ! happy parents both ! As you sit there you can- 
not but estimate the character of the youth before you at its true, 
its priceless value; and, as you do so, you feel iu tensely proud 
and happy that he so values her who is so near and dear to you. 
Yes, mother and father, this homage this true man yields to the 
result of your labors almost repays yo\x for all that labor, care 
and anxiety in all the past for baby, child and girl. 

" Thank yon, Mr. Allen," responded Mr. Morehouse, " for 
your plain and outspoken statement of your wishes; and I must 
also acknowledge, which I do with great pleasure, that your way 
of proceeding is entirely unexceptionable, and in keeping with 
what I had reasonably to expect from a member of the familj' 
to which jou belong. I will be equally candid and open with 



318 PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNU. 

yourself, and say to you that your feelings towards our daughter 
have not been unobserved, either b}' Mrs. Morehouse or myself, 
and that, under these circumstances, we thought a conversation, 
such as we are now having, not unlikely to occur. In this view 
I thought it best for all parties interested that I should make 
such inquries as would enable us to judge of what should be the 
result of any such application as you have this morning made. 
In j)ursuanceof this conceived duty, I have made full and minute 
inquiries. I found, iu the first place, that your father, Captain 
Allen, was an old client of mine — a man of the highest honor 
and integrity, whom I am proud to class as a personal friend. In 
the next place, I found your school and academical record un- 
tarnished by one mean act. Then I found your old emplo^^ers, 
Gould, Fox & Co., of New York, enthusiastic in your praise. 
Further on, I find all your New York business connections re- 
gard you as a valuable customer and a man of strict honor. Sir, 
I want no more, and Mrs. Morehouse agi'ees with me." 

As he said this, he turned his head towards his wife, and she 
promptly said: 

" Perfectly. You have our full consent to speak to our daugh- 
ter, and seek her consent to your proposal." 

Edmund was on the point of jumping from his chair to ex- 
tend his hand, in gratitude and thanks, when Mr. Morehouse 
motioned him to let him proceed further; so Edmund remained 
in his chair, now like a fettered bird, to hear what Mr. More- 
house wished to add. 

"You referred to the fact that you were not rich, and to 
your struggling position, and that you would not receive any 
money endowment with your wife. As to your not being rich, 
there were times, perhaps, when I built castles in the air as to 
riches for my daughter; but they were but air castles, not founded 
on good judgment, and have faded away. In you, sir, I feel, if 
you are the choice of our child, our views for her will be fully 
satisfied. As to the other point, we wish to reserve to ourselves 
the right to give, as well as not to give, to any of our children, 
married as well as single; and this I wish understood distinctly. 
God has intrusted me with considerable of this world's wealth. 
I shall hold what I do not use of it in trust for my children; 
and our intention is, as long as either of us live, not to lop off 
any of the branches of the parent oak, but to leave all its 
spreading shade as a common shelter for all our family, and 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFOENlA. 319 

their families — a harbor to fly to if the world frowns on any 
of them, where they will be sure of a home and a rest that 
will refresh and protect them." 

" Mr. and Mrs. Morehouse, how can I thank you? I have no 
words to do it." 

"Never mind, never mind, Edmund," exclaimed Mrs. More- 
house, tears streaming down her cheeks; " I will not call you 
Mr. Allen any more; we understand all that you would say. 
Come this evening and see Ada, and we both wish you success, 
with all our hearts. She will be home from New York this 
afternoon some time, and, of course, we will say nothing to her 
of your visit. You shall tell her all yourself." 

" Thank you, dear Mrs. Morehouse, a thousand times thank 
you both." And, shaking hands, he was out of sight in a mo- 
ment. 



CHAPTER V. 



THE SONG THE PROPOSAL OF MAEEIAGE. 

As Edmund Allen walked quickly towards his sister's house, 
the world appeared a bright paradise spread out before him, 
without a cloud to cast one shadow on it. Yet, now he almost 
stops walking, and, half-aloud, exclaimed: 

" What if I should have totally mistaken Ada's feelings to- 
wards me — but no," he said, cheerfiilly, " I cannot but believe 
that such eyes- as hers always reflect truly the feelings of the 
heart." 

Alice, who knew her brother's mission that morning, was 
watching for his return, and, as she saw hin% coming, threw open 
the door to receive him. Without speaking', the moment he en- 
tered she caught his hand, and, looking up into his face, ex- 
claimed : 

" Oh, it is all right; you are accepted, my darling brother; I 
wish you joy a thousand times over." 

'^ No, Alice, not exactly; I have only seen Mr. and Mrs. 
Morehouse. Their reception was all that I could ask, and more, 
in fact, than I could expect. I have their consent to see Ada 
this evening, and their good wishes for my success with her." 

" Oh, then, I consider it as good as settled, my dear brother. 
Did you tell them your personal history V" 

" Yes; and I found out that father is an old acquaintance and 
friend of Mr. Morehouse, and he speaks of him in the highest 
terms." 

" Oh, then, all is right, dear Edmund, and I know you have 
nothing to fear as to your interview with Ada to-night." 

" Well, dear sister, I cannot help feeling confident myself, 
and, therefore, very happy." 

When Ada returned from New York, that afternoon, she found 
her father and mother absent. They were not to be back, Mary, 
the hired girl, said, until nine o'clock in the evening. 



m 



PIONEEE TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 321 

Then Mary busied herself in helping Ada to take off and put 
away her things and change her walliing dress. As she did so 
she said, in an assumed careless tone: 

" I believe Mr. Allen is going, or has gone, on some long 
journey." 

" "What makes you tliink so, Mary?" said Ada, looking up 
quickly, with a blush spreading over her face, and then turning 
very pale. 

As Mary saw this she turned away to hide a smile, and said to 
herself: " I thought it was so." Then she answered aloud: 

" Oh, I don't know, ]\Iiss Ada; but he was here this morning, 
and had a long talk with your father and mother in the library, 
and when he was going away they both shook hands with him, 
and I heard your father say ' God bless you, sir; I wish you 
may prosper, with all my heart,' and I heard your mother say 
' Good-bye, we both wish you success with all our hearts.'" 

Ada stood as if transfixed to the spot, for a minute, in aston- 
ishment and evident agitation. Then, partly recovering herself, 
she tried to assume a calm voice, and said: 

" That will do, Mary; I am so tired I believe I will rest here 
on the sofa until tea time." 

Mary understood her, and left the room. But did Ada rest on 
the sofa ? No such thing. As the door closed she exclaimed, 
half -aloud : 

" What in the world does this mean! Can he, in fact, be 
going away, and is he gone, or will he go and not see me! Oh, 
that would be so mean of him; I cannot believe it." 

Then, thromng herself into a chair, she leaned her head for- 
ward on her dressing-table, and, covering her face with her 
handkerchief, she murmured to herself: 

" So, then, my dream of happiness is all over;" but, with a 
start, she seemed to recover herself, and continued: " He 
looks so true and earnest when his eyes meet mine, that I cannot 
believe that anything would make him leave Avithout seeing me. 
Oh, no," she continued, " he will be here this very evening to 
tell me why he has to go; I know he will, and I miist be ready 
to receive him." 

Seeming now to have full faith in this idea, she arose, bathed 

her face and made her toilet Avith uncommon care, which did not 

escape Mary's notice when Ada appeared at the tea-table. Time 

now seemed intolerabl}' slow in passing. At length she hears a 
^1 



322 PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 

step; she knows it well; it is his, and, as he rings the bell, she 
seats herself at the piano, so as to appear at her ease. To com- 
pliment him she fancied she was about to part with for a long 
time, she commenced to sing one of his favorite songs. " The 
poor fellow," she said to herself, " now that he has to go away, 
I don't care if he does know that I am thinking of him." 

Edmund's heart bounded as he recognized his favorite song. 
*' Bless her darling little heart," said he : " that is a good omen." 
As the girl threw open the parlor door to admit him, the song 
was not yet finished, but Ada arose to meet him, and extended 
her hand in her usual cordial manner. As he took it he retained 
it for a moment, saying: 

' ' Let me lead you back to the piano to finish that song, for as 
much as I always admired it, it never seemed so sweet to me be- 
fore. " 

" With great pleasure," said Ada, seating herself again. 

Somehow she outdid herself in that song. Never before did 
she throw such soul and feeling into it as now. As she arose, 
Edmund's eyes were beaming on her with delight and admira- 
tion. He offered her his arm, and she took it mechanically. He 
led her to a little tete-a-tete sofa in the recess of the bay window, 
saying, as he did so: 

" I have something to say to you. Miss Ada, that concerns me 
very much . Will you sit with me here and let me tell you what 
it is ?" 

" Certainly, Mr. Allen," she said, taking her seat by him, and 
looking up into his face, she continued, with a slight tremor in 
her voice, " you do not look well, Mr. Allen; is there anything 
the matter?" 

" Nothing whatever," he said, "but the natural anxiety of one 
starting, as it were, on a long journey, who feels miserable at 
the idea that he roay be all alone in all its vicissitudes and trials; 
but, you, dear Miss Ada, are very pale; I fear you are not well." 

" Oh, perfectly, Mr. Allen; but where are you going, and why 
do you go on this journey ?" 

As Ada spoke, her voice was suppressed and yet more tremu- 
lous. 

"I will explain." said Edmund; "but I was first going to 
ask you if, as a great favor, you would leave off that cold for- 
mula, Mr. Allen, and call me Edmund, when we are here just by 
ourselves, you know. You do not know how sweet to me my 
name would sound if spoken by you." 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFOENIA. 323 

" But you call me Iliss Ada," whispered Ada. 

" Then I may call you Ada and you will call me Edmund?" 

Ada hesitated. "Just when we are here alone," pleaded Ed- 
mund in the same soft voice . 

A low but decided ' ' Yes," followed from Ada. 

"I would like to go yet further," said Edmund, his face now 
beaming with happiness, and ask you to let me preface your 
name with what my heart dictates and calls for." 

Ada hesitated, and Edmund again pleaded: " Just when we are 
here alone, you know." 

As he said this, he took her unresisting hand in his. 

Ada, now scarlet, then pale, by a great effort, commanded just 
breath enough to whisper: 

" What do you want to call me?" 

Edmund leaned over close to her and, in a voice, clear but 
thrilling with intensity of feeling, said: 

" I want to call you, while we are here alone, and forever 
more, while life lasts, my darling, my own Ada." 

Now, each of my young readers must, to their own satisfac- 
tion, conclude in imagination this happy scene between Ed- 
mund and Ada, which is evidently going to cause two young, 
true hearts to go forth as one, in the battle of life. It was 10 
o'clock when Mr. and Mrs. Morehouse returned. As they opened 
the parlor doors, Edmund and Ada stood before them, arm in 
arm. In an instant, Ada's arms were around her father's neck 
and then her mother's, and she whispered in her mother's ear as 
she kissed her: 

" Oh mother! I am so happy." 

Then, taking one look at Edmund, she glided off to her own 
room, to fanc}^ and dream that all the world was as happy as she 
was. 

The father and mother now congratulated Edmund most heart- 
ily, and Mi's. Morehouse kissed his cheek and called him her 
" dear son, Edmund." 

Alice and Alfred Roman waited up for Edmund's return. As 
he entered their house, Alice started to her feet and cried out: 

"All right, is it, Edmund?" And he responded: 

" All right, sister dear.' 

Then she flew to him and embraced him and kissed him over 
and over, saying : 

" Thank God lor your happiness, my darling brother, you de- 
serve it all . " 



324 PIONEEE TIMES IN CALrFOROTA. 

" My loving sister thinks so, anyway," said Edmund. As for 
Alfred, be called for three cheers, which he gave himself, and 
then shook Edmund by both hands. 

" Oh, Edmund! Alfred and I have just planned," said Alice, 
" that you are to take me to see father and mother to-morrow, to 
talk over everything with them. They will be so happy, it will 
do us good to see them." 

" With all my heart, dear Alice. It is jast what I would 
wish to do;" and so it was settled. 

" Well," said Alice, " I will never again disbelieve in love at 
first sight. I see now it does happen sometimes. Well, truly, 
matches are made in heaven." 

Now came a time of the highest enjoyment and happiness to 
all the relations of the young people on both sides. An inter- 
change of visits and calls was the order of the day. Congratu- 
lations poured in on all sides, and never was a happier engage- 
ment. The wedding day was fixed and was near at hand. It 
came, and the nuptials took place at the house of the bride's 
father. After the ceremony, all jDartook of Mrs. Morehouse's 
elegantly prepared breakfast, after which Edmund and Ada set 
out for a trip to the Falls of Niagara; then across Lake Ontario 
and down the river St. Lawrence to Quebec, and back home by 
Lake Champlain, Saratoga and the Hudson river. When they 
reached home, Ada was presented by her father with a deed of 
a handsome, unostentatious residence, all handsomely furnished. 
In the selection and arrangement of the furniture, Alice and 
Mrs. Eaton had heljoed Mrs. Morehouse. A little party was as- 
sembled at the residence to welcome the owners home, and most 
heartily did they do so. Time ran on, and in its course came 
two beautiful children to make the house yet more cheerful and 
joyous. Not a cloud, not a shadow had so far ever crossed the 
path of life of this young couple. Innocent and jDure in their 
love, with enough of worldly goods to meet their daily wants, 
they were more happy than is the prince on his throne. Oh, 
California! when you came with your untold treasure of gold, 
which was so evidently sent by Providence to aid this great re- 
public in its impending danger and struggle for life with its own 
mad children, why was it a part of your mission to destroy a 
happy home, such a paradise on earth as this of Edmund and 
Ada's ? Yet so it seemed. 



CHAPTEB VI. 



NEWS FROM CALIFORNIA — A TERRIBLE DREAM. 

One day in November, 1848, Edmund Allen came home as gay 
and ligbt-liearted as usual. Ada met him with a bright smile 
and her usual kiss of welcome. The streets that day were 
muddy, so Edmund announced his intention to change his boots 
for slippers. Little Alice, their eldest, ran towards her father, 
calling, "Pa, me slippers," and in her tiny hands she bore the 
slippers. 

He expresses his thanks to her, praises her, and tells her she 
is his "little woman," his "pet," and that she had earned a 
dozen kisses from him. Then she holds up her little cherry 
lips to get her pay, and oh ! how sweet to him was it to pay 
that debt! Then, elated with her success, she drags his muddy 
boots towards the kitchen along the carpet. Then her mother 
calls out: "Oh, Alice dear! dirty ma's carpet." 

" No, ma; I am clean Pa's boots." 

Then Edmund catches her up, puts her on his shoulder, 
then makes her feet Avalk on the wall, and tells her she is a 
fly. Then he pretends to eat her up, while he kisses her all 
over. Then Ada is jealous; she says that he has forgotten the 
baby. So he takes the baby, and hugs and kisses the little 
darling until Ada begs him to sit down to dinner or " Every- 
thing will be cold," she says. 

At dinner Edmund tells his wife that he has the New York 
Herald in his pocket, giving an account of the discovery of gold 
at Sutter's Fort, on the American Eiver, in California. 

" I will read it for }'0U," he says, "after dinner, if you would 
like to hear it, as I have not yet read it myself, but Alfred 
was telling me about it." 

"Yes, dear; I would like very much to hear it; but wait until 
the children are in bed." 

So, dinner over, and the little ones snug in bed, Ada takes 



326 PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNU. 

her work out — it is some little article of dress for the baby — 
and, drawing her chair closer to where her husband sits, she 
tells him she is " all ready.'' 

Edmund leans over and kisses her, then draws out the Herald, 
and reads aloud all the accounts it gave of the wonderful dis- 
covery of gold in California, as they first reached New York. 

"I wonder," said Ada, as he concluded, "if these accounts 
are to be relied on ? " 

" "Well, in the main facts, I suppose they are. It is truly 
wonderful," said Edmund. 

He laid the paper down, and walked up and down the room, 
as if in thought. Then hs stopped short, and, seeming to throw 
the thoughts, whatever they may have been, from him, he said: 
" Come, dear wife, lay down your work, and sing for me." 

"Certainly, my dear husband, I will, for I do not like to see 
you thinking of business at home in the evening. You know 
it is against both our ideas." 

"Yes, darling; you are right. There is, as you intimate, a 
time for all things, and this is always an hour for enjoyment; 
so away with thoughts of business, and of gold, too." 

Edmund opened the piano for Ada, and, seating himself by 
her, as was his habit, called for his favorite songs and pieces of 
music. As Ada concluded, and was closing down the piano, 
Edmund said: 

" I wish I had not read those accounts of gold in California 
to-night. It has. somehow disturbed me, and made me feel dis- 
agreeable." 

" Strange," said Ada, " it has had the same effect on me. The 
feeling is undefined, and I would not have noticed it if you had 
not," 

" How very strange," added Edmund, " that it had the same 
effect on us both. Well, it is said, you know, that the Old Boy 
is always glad when gold is plenty. Perhaps he is going to try 
to reach us through it." 

" G-od forbid," said Ada, fervently, " that he should succeed 
in doing so." 

" God forbid, my darling wife," responded Edmund, in the 
same tone of voice. 

As they knelt together that night in prayer, as was their wont 
to do, Edmund's voice seemed to Ada more than usually deep 
and earnest as he asked for protection against temptations. 



PIONEBE TIMES IN CALIPOENIA. 327 

After prayers Edmund entertained liis wife, while preparing to 
retire, by relating a thrilling incident, told to him that day, of 
a man and his wife who had an almost miraculous escape from 
floating ice on the upper Hudson Eiver. This seemed to have 
drawn all thoughts of California and her gold out of their thoughts, 
for neither spoke of it again that night. But Ada had a fearful 
dream as she slept. She saw Edmund, it seemed to her, at the 
opposite side of a large sea. He was in some great trouble, and 
was calling on her to come and save him. She ran down to the 
water's edge, and now the whole sea was covered with floating 
masses of ice, running close together, and making a fearful 
crashing and groaning. She thought to cross on the broken 
masses, but her courage failed her, and she drew back. Again 
she hears her husband call, and now, to her horror, she sees her 
children on the ice before her, trying to jump from piece to 
piece. She no longer hesitates, but flies to save her children; 
from mass of ice to mass she leaps, as if she had wings, and 
reaches the children in safety. The baby she catches up in her 
arms, and, taking little Alice's hand, she continues her terrible 
flight. Edmund is now plainly in view; closer and closer she 
gets to him, but as she nears the shore where he stands the ice 
seems far apart; but, redoubling her efforts, with one more des- 
perate leap she gains the shore, and, with a wild cry, throws 
herself and the children into Edmund's arms. Her cry, and 
the last terrible effort awaken her. '•' Oh!" she exclaims, 
" Thank God! Thank God! It was all a dream." 

" "VVhy, my darling wife," said Edmund, who was awakened 
by her fearful cry, "what is the matter? You are surely not 
frightened by a dream ?" 

" Oh, Edmund, it was so fearful, so terrible, so vivid; I can 
see it all yet. The horrid ice, as it crashed and roared; the 
danger of the children, and your pitiful call for me to come to 
you; but, oh, it was all only a dream. Thank God! Thank 
God!" 

While she spoke her teeth chattered, and she was trembling 
all over, as if in great terror. Edmund got up, lit the lamp, 
got her a drink, and did everything he could to aid her to regain 
her composure. He spoke cheerfully, laughed at her thinking 
so much of a dream, declared all dreams to be ridiculous, and 
unworthy of the least attention, and blamed himself for having 
told her of the frightful escape of the man and his wife, so near 
bed-time. 



328 PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 

" I know all you say is, in fact, true, my dear Edmund; but 
yet I never, in all my life, suffered as I did in that dream." 

" Well, try and think no more of it, dear wife." 

Then Edmund, with tact and skill, drew off her thoughts in 
another direction, and it was not long before they were both 
once more fast asleep. No dreams came to disturb Ada any 
more that night. 

Oh, California! was that dream your work ? And what does it 
portend to this virtuous and hajppy couple ? 

Now came the California fever so often spoken of. Every new 
arrival from there heightened the excitement, and the daily 
papers found i^rofit in fanning the flame, until it became almost a 
frenzy in the minds of the whole people. The New York Herald 
raked up every possible scrap of information, not only on gold 
discoveries, but of the climate, soil and capabilities of Califor- 
nia and of the whole Pacific coast. Kude maps and diagrams of 
the geography of the country were appearing every day in the 
Herald and other daily papers. 

Now, the rush, which is soon to swell into a mighty tidal-wave, 
of the young, the middle-aged, and, in many cases, even of the 
old, begins for California. The journey was a very expensive 
one, and an outfit besides must be had. This held back thou- 
sands who would willingly have gone if they had the means. In 
some cases families clubbed all their resources to enable one 
member to go. Many young men, whose character gave them 
good credit, were assisted to go by well-off friends. Others 
obtained help by entering into contracts to divide all they made 
for the first year after reaching California with the party fur- 
nishing the required money. This last way was very common for 
those who could not go themselves, though having ample 
means, faith in California, and the prospect of becoming rich 
there. Such readily risked their money in the venture, 
against the toil and personal service of some good, enter- 
prising young fellow. When the excitement rose to its height 
Allen and Eoman became infected, but not at first so as to wish 
to go themselves. They, however, fitted out one or two young 
men they had faith in, and started them to California, on a con- 
tract such as I have mentioned. Indirectly, they helped some 
others to go and try their luck in the land of promise . To one 
such case in particular let me draw attention in the next chapter, 
as the little heroiae of the circumstance will figure as an object 
of interest in our next story, illustrating early life in California. 



CHAPTER VII. 



MINNIE WAGNER — ^BEOTHER AND SISTER. 

Minnie "Wagner was a beautiful girl of fifteen; she was hand- 
some in face and faultless in form, with piercing and very pleas- 
ant dark, blue eyes; her hair was what might be called fair, but 
not light; she had a profusion of it, so that when she sometimes, 
for the amusement of her companions tlirew it out loose, it 
swept the ground, and almost enveloped her whole person while 
she stood erect. In her disposition she was generous and unsel- 
fish to a fault. She had one brother, to whom she was devotedly 
attached. 

He was five years older than she was, and resembled her in 
many traits of his character. Minnie was always his pet, his 
darling. They shared together all their little trials and crosses, 
and all their little joys and amusements. Each watched for the 
other on all occasions, in seeming forgetfulness of themselves. 
Their parents resided in a small, unpretending cottage which 
they owned in the outskirts of Newark. In front of it there was 
a charming little flower garden, inclosed by a pretty fence, 
painted white. The flowers were well taken care of, and in their 
selection and management showed excellent taste. Everything 
in and about the cottage was as neat as neat could be. A glimpse 
into the little parlor showed a plain rosewood piano. The father, 
Thomas Wagner, was an architect and house-builder by occupa- 
tion, and an industrious, good man. The mother was as good 
a woman as the father was a man, and of no common educational 
culture. She was Irish by birth, and was of a good family in 
her own country. The father, and nearly all her immediate 
relatives, lost their lives in one of those patriotic uprisings that 
are so often occurring in Ireland in, thus far, though, let us 
hope, not always to be, fruitless efforts to rid themselves of the 
terrible tyranny of English rule. One brother, whose life was 
sx)ared, and whom she loved devotedly, escaped to France, but 



330 PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA, 

Mrs. Wagner had never been able to trace him since. She hei-- 
self got an opportunity of coming to America with a family emi- 
grating to New York. In that city she supported herself by 
teaching. Her knowledge of music aided her much; but yet, as 
an unknown stranger of a nationality and a religion that at th:it 
time had to battle against the bitterest and most unfounded pre- 
judices, her task v/as a weary one, and required all the fortitude 
natural to those of her race to sustain her in her struggle with 
adversity. 

At length, through the influence of a good lady who had become 
her friend, she obtained a very advantageous position as teacher 
in a school in Newark. But ifc was not long before some narrow- 
minded parents objected to her on account of her religion. This 
aroused a bitter controversy among the patrons of the school. 
The young architect, Thomas Wagner, attended a meeting called 
to consider the matter. He had never seen the young lady, 
but his true American chivalry of character^ and true American 
detestation of persecution of any sort, but particularly persecu- 
cution for opinion's sake, caused him to take part in the discus- 
sion, and by his manly, brave defence of the stranger girl shamed 
all bigotry into silence. Miss Fitzgerald was not present, of 
course; but, on hearing to whom she owed so much, called on him 
to express her heart-felt thanks. And so it was that very soon 
Miss Fitzgerald became Mrs. Thomas W^agner. 

Thomas Wagner was known to be skilled in his profession, 
and, therefore, very seldom out of employment. He supported 
his family in comfort, and laid by a little each month in the sav- 
ings bank for a " rainy day." When the son was sixteen the 
father took him from school, and got him a good position in a 
hardware store in Newark. Being like most fathers, he pre- 
ferred his son should choose any mode of life rather than his 
own. 

Minnie went to a day school kept by the good Sisters, and im- 
proved rapidly in all her studies, and was instructed in music by 
lier mother. 

A few months before the California excitement broke out, Mr. 
Wagner met with a terrible accident. He fell from a house he 
was at work on, breaking his leg, and otherwise seriously injur- 
ing himself. This was a severe trial to the whole family. Minnie 
left school to wait on her father's sick-bed; and to her watchful 
eyes and gentle hand he owed many an easy hour and refreshing 



PIOKEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 331 

sleep. He had been so severely hurt that his recovery was very 
slow, and it was plain to all that the time Vv as near at hand when 
they would be forced to draw on the little reserved fund in 
the savings bank, instead of adding more to what was there. 
This they were most anxious to avoid, if possible; so Mrs. Wag- 
ner proposed they should try to get something to do to make 
enough to meet their daily expenses until the father should again 
be able to work. 

After a family talk and consultation, it was settled that Mrs. 
Wagner should, the next day, apjply to Allen & Koman for 
work. 

In those days retail drygoods dealers were in the habit of 
taking orders for shirts from gentlemen wishing them made in 
a certain style and finish; so Mrs. Wagner was not disappointed. 
She came home with the material for a dozen shirts. The 
price allowed for making was small enough, yet reasonable; so 
that, with Minnie's help, who was a beautiful sewer, she could 
meet all the family expenses. 

Sewing machines were not in vogue in those days; so, as they 
cared for and watched by the dear sick father, they went on, as 
it is in the " Song of the Shirt," " Stitch, stitch, stitch," all the 
day long, mother and daughter. When forced to stop and pre- 
pare the frugal meals, they did so with a sense of the greatest 
relief; for so incessant was the strain on their eyes and fin- 
gers all the day, with the never-ending stitch, stitch, stitch, 
that any work seemed light and a relaxation in comparison. 

Until the shirt-making commenced, Minnie would often soothe 
her father's weary hours by playing for him on her piano; but 
now he did not ask her for music, except on Sundays, fearful 
to take the time from the everlasting work on the shirts ; so 
the only enjoyment left was, that in the evenings Walter read 
aloud for his father, while his mother and sister sewed on and 
listened. 

Now came the California news, and Walter's evening reading 
was mostly of all its wonders . There is nothing on earth that 
will fascinate as stories of gold-finding will, when supported 
by any show of truth. It is not surprising, then, that the 
Wagner family did what all their neighbors were doing — 
talked and dreamed of gold. The father, on his sick bed, often 
exclaimed : 

" If I were well, I believe I would try my luck in California." 



332 PIONEER TIMES IN CALIEOKNIA. 

Then the mother would say: "Well, dear Thomas, do not 
think of it ; for it is not God's will that you should do so. Let 
us be satisfied, and I have no doubt it is for the best, after all." 

" Yes, dear wife, I have no doubt you are right; and I am al- 
most sorry I ever heard of California, as it adds to my regret 
that I am so helpless here." 

Then Minnie would do or say something to draw her father's 
mind from sad thoughts; 

On the first Sunday that came after the California excite- 
ment had risen to its height, the mother went to early church, 
and Walter and his sister went together to the late service. 

Somehow this Sunday they were both very thoughtful, and 
said but little, which was uncommon; for usually, when together, 
they never ceased to talk of one subject or another. Several times 
on their way back Minnie stole an anxious side-glance into her 
brother's face, but made no remark. When they got home, din- 
ner was ready. It was set on a table, near their father's bed; so 
they sat down, and Minnie tried to be cheerful and to make them 
all feel so, for her father's sake. She laughed and talked even 
more than was common for her. The father felt pleased and 
thankful to see her so happy, but the keen eye of the mother 
detected uncommon anxiety beneath this show of good spirits. 
In the evening the mother went to vespers, leaving the brother 
and sister alone to take care of their father. There was a nice 
little fire in their father's room, so Minnie sat near it in a rock- 
ing-chair, while Walter read aloud for his father from a book he 
tl) ought would interest him. The father, with Minnie's aid, 
settled himself into the most comfortable position, and seemed 
to be much interested in the reading, but he soon dropped off 
into a sound sleep. Walter closed the book, and glanced to- 
wards his sister to see if she too slept, for she had been so per- 
fectly still. To his surprise her eyes met his, full of bright- 
beaming light. She arose from her chair, without speaking, and 
removed the lamp from the little table near which Walter had 
been reading, and laid it on the floor just inside her own bed- 
room door; then, drawing a second chair close, to the fire, she 
beckoned to her brother to come and sit near her. He did so, 
noiselessly, and whispered earnestly, while he took her hand in 
his: 

" What is it, darling Minnie, that troubled you so all day ?" 

" Well, nothing, dear Walter, but that I have been watching 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALIPORNIA. 333 

you for two or three days, and I see your poor heart is in trouble; 
and so is mine, too, for I know what ^-ou are thinking of." 

" What did you think it was, Minnie ?" 

" Oh, I know; you want to go to California." 

" Who told you, Minnie ?" 

" Your friend James De Forest was here yesterday to see 
father. " If Walter could have seen his sister's face as she said 
this, he would have seen the slightest little blush spread over it. 
" And, as he was leaving, he beckoned me to follow him into the 
garden, and then he told me he was going; that he had just got 
money enough together to take him there, and that he wanted 
you to go with him, but that you had not quite enough of money, 
and that you did not know how you could leave us either. " 

Here Minnie's voice choked a little, so that Walter did not 
catch the last part of her whisper, and the only response he 
made was to clasp her little hands in both of his, with the 
gentlest pressure. She seemed to recover herself, and went on: 

" Now, I want to tell you, my brother, that I approve of your 
going, and that I can help you. Yes, you look surprised, Walter; 
but I can help you, though. I am a little girl, but, Walter, I 
am not, you know, like a rich girl, who has rich parents to do 
everything for her, and to give her everything she wants, and 
has never to think for herself; no, I have to think, think and ijlan, 
plan for myself often and often; so now I feel like a woman 
grown, and you will see that I will help yoa, my darling Walter; 
so you must tl me all your plans, and then let me think and 
think over them to-night." 

" Oh, Minnie, you are so fond of me that you always forget 
your poor little self, for how could I leave dear mother and you 
here alone, and poor father, so sick ?" Then, dropping his whis- 
per still lower, he continued: "The Doctor told me there was 
yet great danger in father's case, and, Minnie, if anything should 
happen to him — " 

Here his voice failed, and he could not proceed, and for some 
minutes both brother and sister remained silent, with their hands 
yet more tightly clasped; and without courage to look at each 
other, their gaze was on the burning embers before them. Min- 
nie was the first to recover her voice : 

" Dear Walter," she said, " do not let such fears trouble you; 
see, I am a ivoman, you are four years older, and must be a man, 
as you always have been in fact. In six months you can send ua 



334 PIONEER TIMES IN CAEIFOKNIA. 

money enough fi'om California to make us all well-off, if not 
rich. Did you not see that last account, where some one writes 
to the President — yes, to the President at Washington — that 
Captain Sutter had Indians at work on the American River, 
who were earning for him one hundred dollars each and every 
day?" 

" Well, Minnie, grown or not grown, you are a woman, sure 
enough, and I will talk to you as I would to mother or Uncle 
John. In the first place, then, supposing we get mother's and 
father's consent, I have not the necessary money; I am fifty dol- 
lars short of what would be necessary to take a second-cabin 
passage around Caj^e Horn, which is the cheapest way of going 
to California, and is the way James De Forest intends to go. 
The firm owes me fifty dollars, and I met Uncle John yesterday, 
and he told me he would lend me twenty-five, but how to get the 
other fifty I am puzzled. I have thought of every one I know of, 
that I could ask, and of every way and plan to get it, but I was 
forced to believe that it was out of the question. Oh, Minnie, 
if I could go, and succeed in sending home money, how happy 
it would make me! Poor father could then have a little rest, 
even if he was well, and you and mother need not take any more 
shirts to make; for, Minnie, that will kill you both if you have 
to continue such work much longer. You both look pale and 
miserable since you have had to work on those shirts, and Uncle 
John and James De Forest say the same." 

There were tears standing in Minnie's bright, expressive eyes, 
but she brushed them away, and, patting Walter on the shoulder, 
while she looked up in his face, she said: 

"Now, Walter, dear, I want you to listen to me, for we have 
not much more time to talk; mother will be home in a few min- 
utes; I have a plan in my head," placing her hand on her fore- 
head, " to get this fifty dollars; I will not explain it to you just 
now, but be satisfied it is all right, for I will explain it to mother 
to-morrow, after I get her consent to let you go to California; so 
when you come home in the evening I will be able to tell you 
how it worked; so, now do not worry yourself too much about 
mother and myself, for it is no use, and we will do our best to 
take care of our health, and I want you to be strong for your 
journey, and for your work digging gold in California for us, you 
know." 

Just then they beard their mother coming, apparently in com- 



PIONEEIi TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 335 

pany with some one, who proved to be Uncle John, thoii- father's 
brother; so Minnie arose from her seat and, hurriedly kissing 
her brother, whispered: 

" Don't give up, Walter; we will succeed in some way." 

" God bless you, my darling sister," was all that "Walter had 
time to say as the door opened and their mother and Uncle John 
entered. 

The father awoke from his refreshing sleep, and all had a 
j)leasant talk. Then Uncle John left, and everything was ar- 
ranged as usual for the night. Minnie retired to her own little 
room next to her parents, where she slept within call, should her 
mother need anything during the night. When she was alone 
she knelt by her bed, and then her night prayers were unusually 
long and earnest ; for, with her whole soul, she prayed for help 
and courage to go through with what she had undertaken. She 
arose from her knees, seeming to feel more calm and happy, say- 
ing, audibly: 

" My plan is this: we make a dollar now over our family ex- 
penses every week. I will get mother to let me get up an hour 
sooner every morning, and to work an hour later every da}', and 
in this way I can earn at least a dollar a week more. That will 
be two dollars a week saved. Now, to-morrow I will go to Allen 
& Roman's and offer to make shirts for them at the same price 
that IJ;athbone & Simonson pay, which is ten cents a shirt less 
than Allen & llomaii now pay us, if they will advance us $50 
for Walter to go to California, and take it back at two dollars 
each week until we have it paid. Oh! I am sure they will do it, 
they are so good and kind; and then they will save so much on 
the shirts each week. Ten cents is a good deal, and Rath bo no & 
Simonson say that Allen & Roman are fools to i:)ay us so much; 
but they knew father. It was he who fixed up their store when 
they began business; and they always praise him, and say he is 
so honest and good, and they are sorry for his accident; and Mr. 
Allen told me, the other day, that the shirts we made gave more 
satisfaction than any shirts they ever had made before, and he 
told me I looked pale, and that I must not work so hard, and 
was so kind in his way of talking to me. Oh! I know he will do 
it. What do I care if I am a little pale? It will only be for 
this year, and then — oh! yes; and then, when wo hear from Wal- 
ter, and when he sends us homo gold that he hinn^elf hiis 
dug in California ! Oh! won't that make us all so happy!" 



336 PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFOENIA. 

And liere she clapped her little hands together, while her face 
lit up with delight at the thought; then she again ran on and 
murmured : 

" To-morrow, yes, to-morrow, will be a great day, and I will 
show Walter that he was right when he said he would talk to me 
as if I was a woman grown. And I will tell him to ask no ques- 
tions, but to just go and get readj'" for California." Then her 
voice droj)ped to the lowest whisper, and, pressing her hands 
over her eyes, she continued: " Oh, how lonesome I will feel 
when I see the ship sailing away with poor Walter on board ! 
Then I will cry. Oh, yes, I can't help that; but I will soon get 
over it; for I will have to attend to my work, and to cheer up 
dear father and mother. " 

Thus Minnie ran on as she undressed, and, after she was in 
bed, she continued building castles in the air. Over and over 
she shaped them, till they grew almost real to her heated fancy. 
Her eyes, instead of closing in sleep, were wide open; fixed, in 
the darkness, on the hapj)y and beautiful scenes in her coming 
life which her imagination pictured before her. At length she 
suddenly seemed to recollect that sleep she must, so as to enable 
her to face her work of " to-morrow." By an effort she changed 
her thoughts to her daily duties, and was not disappointed, for 
soon she was lost in dreams; but they were troubled, and the 
morning light found poor Minnie unrefreshed. 



CHAPTER Vni. 



THE GIKL S ERRAND ADA AND MINNIE. 

Monday morning came, bright and beautiful, to all, rich and 
poor. Minnie, though half weary, arose, full of resolute cour- 
age, and was unusually quick in her morning work. She found 
a good opportunity to talk with her mother. She was pleased 
to find that Uncle John had prepared her for Walter's prop- 
osition, and that both her parents had made up their minds 
to let Walter go, if he could in any way get the necessary 
amount of money without taking the little sum that lay in the 
savings bank, which thsy held as almost sacred. Minnie now 
explained her plan for getting the fifty dollars to her mother, 
and, as she did so, somehow it did not look so sure of success 
as it did to herself the night before. Her mother said: 

" Dear child, I am satisfied that we should work a little more 
every day, as you say, if it would get us the money for Walter 
on the terms you speak of. But, Minnie dear, I fear you will 
find that Allen & Roman will not advance so large a sum on 
such security. They know father cannot work for a long time 
yet, and they know that it is your work and mine that supports 
all of us, and pays for medicine and the doctor's bills. And, 
though they will not doubt our honesty and good intentions, 
yet they Aviil see that if anything happened to any of us, we 
could not pay so large a sum." 

Poor Minnie's heart sank within her as she listened to her 
motber. Then, after a pause, in which she tried to regain her 
confidence and courage, she said: 

'•Well, dear mother, have you any objection that I should 
try, and see what they sa}' ?" 

" Not in the least, my dear child. Go, if you wish; and tell 
them that I make the request with you." 

" But, mother darling, I do not want ijoii to work longer each 
day than you do now, for you could not stand it. But I want 
you to agree that I may; for nothing hurts me, you know, for I 
am so strong and young, you know." 



338 PIONEER TIMES IN CAIilFOENIA. 

" My darling," said her mother, kissing her, " let us not dis- 
pute this point until you hear what Allen & Koman say about 
the money." 

It was not long before Minnie was on her way to Allen & Ro- 
man's. She took with her four shirts they had just finished. As 
nearer and nearer she came to Allen & Roman's place of business, 
less and less did the chance of her meeting Avith success appear; 
so that when she reached the door of the store her heart entirely 
failed her, and the proposition that looked so reasonable and so 
advantageous to the merchants the night before, now looked al- 
most ridiculous and unreasonable for any one to propose to busi- 
ness men. Her breathing was short and hard, and she felt so 
faint that she had to stop a moment before she entered the store. 
She tried to collect her thoughts, and said: 

" How is it that everything looks so different to me from what 
it did last night? I told Walter I was as wise as a woman grown, 
and he said the same ; but, after all, I find I am nothing but a 
foolish little girl. "Well, I will leave those shirts, anyway." 

Poor Minnie! her heart was now at the lowest and saddest 
depth. The loss of her great plan to get the fifty dollars seemed 
to bewilder her. That plan, which was the corner-stone of all 
the castles she had lain awake so long the night before to build 
and admire. The castles, that reached away into the future of 
her life, making every one she loved happy, she had now to give 
up as absurd. 

As she entered the store she felt like one in a dream. Every- 
thing around her had a sort of moonlight appearance. Me- 
chanically she handed the shirts to the clerk, and asked for a 
supply of unmade ones. As she spoke, her lips quivered, and it 
was all she could do to save herself from a burst of hysterical 
weeping. 

Just then a beautiful little girl, dressed in the richest style, 
came dashing into the store from the office, full of laughter, 
holding a gold watch in her hand, with its long guard -chain en- 
tangled around her arm. She was closely pursued by her mother, 
calling to her: 

" Here, now, you little mischief; give me that watch." 

The child ran to Minnie for protection, and, almost leaping 
into her arms, thrust the watch into Minnie's bosom, saying: 

" Don't let Ma have it." 

Then followed a treaty of peace between the mother and child, 
in which Minnie had, of necessity, to join. During this little 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 339 

performance the mother's attention was attracted to Minnie's 
appearance. She had never seen her before, and there was a 
something about the child that fascinated Mrs. Allen. And now 
Minnie's dark-blue eyes lit up with an undefined hope as she 
saw the lady's look fixed on her. 

" Did you want to see Mr. Allen?" said Ada, in her sweetest 
voice. 

" Oh, yes, ma'am," said Minnie; " but I have given it up. It 
was foolish to think of it." 

" What have you given up, dear girl; and what was it that was 
so foolish to think of ? " 

" Oh, dear Mrs. Allen, for I know now that it is to Mrs. Allen 
I am speaking, I have given it all up; so there is no use in tell- 
ing you. You would think me so foolish." 

While she spoke, her color came and went alternately; but her 
eyes were brighter and brighter, and larger and larger, it ap- 
peared to Ada. 

"Mr. Allen has only just gone out, and will undoubtedly 
be in soon again ; so, until he returns, come in and sit in the 
office with me, and tell me all about yourself. Perhaps I can 
be of some use to j'ou." 

Without speaking, Minnie followed Ada, just as one in a fairy 
tale follows a good Geni, who has appeared to them. She took 
her seat opposite Mrs. Allen, and was now calm, but excited to 
the utmost. Her beautiful eyes were full of truth, and in them 
her heart was easily seen. 

"Well, Mrs. Allen," Minnie began, "you look so kind and 
good, that you will not think badly of me, if I do just tell you 
everything — my plan and all." 

" Certainly not, dear; it is just what I asked you to do," said 
Ada. 

Then Minnie told her who she was ; how her family came to 
apply for work to Allen & Roman; how she left the Sisters' 
school to help her mother after her father's accident ; how her 
brother read to them every night about gold in California. 

Then she told of her talk with her bi-other Walter the night 
before, and of her plan to raise the money, and how nice the 
plan looked that night, but how different it looked as she came 
near the ytore, and how she gave it up and Avas just going to 
leave for home when " that little angel," concluded Minnie, 
pointiug to little Alice, who was now seated on her mother's 
lap, Avith her eyes fixed on Minnie, " flew to me, and as I put my 



340 PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 

arms around her, courage came back and I felt like myself again, 
and was able to tell you all this. " 

Ada had to struggle to keep Minnie from seeing how much her 
simple story affected her. If she had followed the impulse of 
her heart, she would have counted out to Minnie the coveted 
fifty dollars from her pocketbook, but she preferred to leave the 
matter to Edmund; so she said: 

" Now, Minnie, as soon as Mr. Allen comes in, you go into 
the store and wait there while I talk with him, and I "will tell 
you if he can find any way to help your brother to go to Califor- 
nia." 

"Oh! Mrs. Allen," said Minnie, " I fear I am giving you too 
much trouble. I did not mean to do so." 

" It is no trouble; I will be very glad if Mr. Allen can help 
your brother." 

Then Ada talked on with her about various things, and was 
more and more pleased the better the insight she got into her 
generous, unselfish character. 

Edmund came, and Ada and he had a talk on Minnie's busi- 
ness, and they soon came to a conclusion. Edmund called ber 
in, shook hands with her; asked for her father in the kindest 
way. Then he said: 

" Minnie, Mrs. Allen has told me all about your wanting fifty 
dollars to help your brother go to California, and, also, your plan 
to pay it back. Your plan is a very good one, and does you 
great credit, but I think I have a better plan. Mrs. Allen tells 
me that she often wants little jobs of sewing done for herself 
and the children, and she proposes to give you ail such in the 
future, and she will credit you with the amount on this fifty dol- 
lars I will give you now, and after Walter gets to California, if 
he sends me the money, then Mrs. Allen will pay you and your 
mother for all work done up to that time. How will that plan 
do, Minnie ?" 

" Oh, that will be ever so much better for us all, Mr. Allen, 
and I will be delighted; but, you know, we will make the shirts 
for the store for ten cents apiece less, while we owe this money; 
that is, for the same price Rathbone & Simonson pay." 

Edmund smiled. 

"No, Minnie; not one cent less. The store has nothing to 
do with this fifty dollars; it comes from my private funds. You 
work too hard as it is, and I hope Walter will be able to send 
you home money, as I am sure he will be, for he is a good, steady 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 341 

boy, SO that you and your poor mother will not have to work so 
hard^ for, as I told you once before, you are looking pale." 

As Edmund spoke, he counted out fifty dollars and handed it 
to Minnie. She was unable to say a word of thanks, but caught 
his hand and kissed it. Then, turning to Mrs. Allen, she whis- 
pered : 

" May I kiss you !" 

Ada at once stooj)ed and kissed her, in the most cordial man- 
ner. Minnie now caught up little Alice in her arms, and, hug- 
ging and kissing her, she said: 

" I owe all this to this little angel!' 

Then she put her handkerchief to her face to hide her flowing 
tears, and hurried through the store, with the fifty dollars 
grasped hard in her little hand, and now over the pavements she 
almost bounded. 

As Edmund and Ada walked home from the store, after Min- 
nie's visit, their conversation turned on the Wagner family, for 
Ada had become very much interested in all that concerned 
them. Edmund gave her all the particulars that she had not got 
from Minnie's own story. 

" Well, Edmund," said his wife, as he concluded, " that fifty 
dollars you gave little Minnie did me more good than if you had 
spent five hundred on me in diamonds and jewelry." 

'' I have not the least doubt of it, my dear wife, and it does 
appear to me a thousand times the best way of spending money 
when one has it to spend." 

" Oh, yes, and it gives so much more happiness th^n if spent 
for mere personal pleasure. I will, of course, give them but lit- 
tle work, for I see the poor things are worked to death. Had I 
not better, Edmund, go and see if the poor father is wanting in 
any necessity ?" 

" Do, dear, and take sister Alice with you; but recollect they 
are proud, and you would hurt their feelings if 3^ou proposed to 
give them anything in charity." 

" Of course," said Ada, " I could see that from the independ- 
ent, noble bearing of that beautiful child. No; I will take them 
a job of sewing, you know." 
• And so it was settled. 

"Well," said Ada, after a pause, " how fearfully this Califor- 
nia excitement is spreading; it reaches the rich and the poor 
both." 

'f Yes, dear Ada, so it does," responded Edmund. 



342 PIONEER TIMES IN CALITOENIA. 

Then both walked on in thoughtful silence until they reached 
their own home. 

When Minnie reached home with the money, the surprise and 
gratification of her parents knew no bounds, as neither supposed 
there was even a chance of her success. When Walter cam:; 
home in the evening he was equally surprised, and declared that 
Minnie was not only a little ivoman, but the greatest little woman 
in the whole State of New Jersey. Now all difficulties in the way 
of Walter's departui'e were overcome. But in this success, joy 
and gladness were blended. Joy that Walter could go, and sad- 
ness that they were parting with him. Minnie's heart seemed 
proud within her at the result of her day's work; but yet, when 
she retired to her room that night and knelt, her prayers were 
all murmurings of praise and thanks to God. The excitement 
had made her feverish^ and her head was hot, so, to relieve it, 
she unfastened her long silky hair, and let it fall loose on her 
shoulders, bathed her face and hands in cold water, and then re- 
tired to her bed. Soon her little, weary frame was resting in 
sweet, refreshing sleep. 

Mrs. Wagner, recollecting all poor Minnie had gone through 
that day, and anxious to see if her rest was quiet, arose from her 
seat by the father's sick-bed and went to her room. As sbe en- 
tered, she stood near the bed and elevated the light in her hand. 
Minnie had thrown the bed clothes back so as to leave her 
shoulders and arms cool and free from the weight of the clothes; 
she is partly turned on her side and facing the wall; her little 
hands are clasped before her, as if in prayer; her hair has fallen 
down over the pillow in profusion to the floor, at her mother's 
feet, forming a picture of beauty and innocence that charmed 
and filled the mother's heart with happiness and pride, and a 
smile of almost triumph appeared on her face; but suddenly the 
smile disappears, and tremblingly she listens, for Minnie mur- 
murs: " Gold, Walter, gold, where is it?" Oh, California! 
California! What do you mean to do with this beautiful child? 
Lure her on, and set her heart wild with fabulous stories of your 
riches and gold, until we shall find her on a steamer's deck away, 
far away on one of your great rivers, alone and unprotected, 
trembling in fear; for fiends in human shape are planning a fear- 
ful fate for her. But God, in His almighty power, is there to 
watch and save her, as here, in this j)eaceful little room. He 
now guards her in her sweet, refreshing sleep. 



CHAPTER IX. 



DESIBE TO GO TO CALIFORNIA — DEPABTURE. 

To Edmund Alleu everything around Newark became daily 
staler and staler, and terribly insipid. The whole Pacific coast 
apj)eared suddenly to loom up, and to call for the young-, ener- 
getic and ambitious to come forth and build there a great nation, 
and be themselves first among the fii'st. This sort of attraction 
was not of that sordid character that led so many to California. 
It wa3 far more noble, and reached many a heart that gold alone 
could not have tempted to leave home and all that was dear to 
them on earth. Edmund became deeply interested in all the 
scraps of history of the Pacific coast that were every day appear- 
ing in the public prints, and at length became fired with an am- 
bition to mingle with the actors there. Ada saw the growing 
desire taking possession of his mind, and trembled to think of 
the consequences. At length, one morning after breakfast, he 
said to her: 

" Ada, my love, what would you think of our going to Cali- 
fornia ?" 

" Our going!" she repeated, "you mean, Edmund, of your 
going," and, bursting into tears, she threw herself into a chair 
close to him. 

" No, darling wife, I do not mean my going; I mean of you, 
the children and myself going; but do not weep, dearest, I am 
not going to propose our being separated for one day," and, as 
he spoke, he slipped his arm around her waist, " and you are too 
brave a wife to weep because I propose to have you face a little 
danger and, perhaps, privations for a little time, standing by my 
side, as you will be, that we may have the pleasure of being 
somebody in this almost new world that has opened up before 
us." 

" But, Edmund dear, California, they say, is no place for a 
woman." 

•' No place for a woman! and why so, my darling? and who 



344 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 



are they that say so ? It is just the place for a woman who 
wants to be a ivoman, and not a nonentity, as so many women 
try to make themselves, and those who talk that stuff are those 
who have no ajDpreciation of what a looman is, or ought to be. 
The women who talk that way are skulking, cowardly creatures, 
who want to steal thi'ough the world as an inferior part of crea- 
tion, unwilling to do their part, and perform the duties of life 
that God has so plainly assigned them." 

" Oh, Edmund, you are too severe on all those wives who are 
now separating from their husbands; many cannot help it, you 
know." 

" Well, dear, I cannot help it, or have much patience, when I 
hear people estimating the place of women and their duties to 
society at such a low standard. Of course, as you say, there is 
many a poor wife left at home to-day that cannot help it, and who 
would go but for this ridiculous idea so prevalent, that Califor- 
nia is no place for women. I say it is just the place for women. 
Without them the most refined men will turn to savages, and 
even brutes, and become ungovernable. The husband who can 
take his wife to California and does not, because he fears he can- 
not protect her, is a coward, unworthy of the love of woman, 
and is, moreover, ignorant of the high, chivalrous character of 
the race to which he belongs." 

" Darling," said Ada, " I appreciate all you say, and agree 
with you, too, and if I found you could not be contented without 
going to California I would joyfully step out by your side, and, 
with you, face all the dangers of such a home, for I confess this 
fever, or whatever it is, has partly caught myself, but the fear of 
exposing our little ones holds me back, and, if it were not for 
this, I would go with you, my husband, to the ends of the earth 
rather than separate myself from you for even so short a period. 
But even as to the children, you have the right to be the judge, 
and your wife will not falter if you decide against her judg- 
ment." 

"Ada, my darling, brave wife, whatever may be my abstract 
rights as the husband, this is a matter in which we should both 
agree, and one in which I should not be justified in following 
my single judgment when it is opjDosed to yours. So, my dar- 
ling, I will do nothing that you are not satisfied with. I long 
to go. I am like a bird in a cage, but I cannot make up my 
mind to separate from you and my darling little ones." 



PIOKEEB TIMES IX CALIFORNIA. 345 

" And I," said Ada, "cannot bear to detain you or separate 
from you, so I think I will go. But let us talk with our parents 
about it. What does Alfred think of it ? " 

" He, like myself, is terribly opposed to married people sepa- 
rating, on any pretence, for so long a time as even for one year, 
and therefore favors your going with me, if I do go." Then Ed- 
mund arose, and kissed his wife, saying: " I want j^ou to think 
of the matter, and talk with your father and mother, and we 
will come to some final decision as. soon as possible, one way or 
the other." 

This Ada promised to do. When she saw her parents she 
found them utterly opposed to either of them going to Califor- 
nia. Mrs. Morehouse stormed in anger at the idea. Ada spoke 
warmly in its favor, but made no impression on her parents. 
Mr. Morehouse finally said that if Edniiind decided to go, ho 
was in favor of Ada's going with him. This the motlier declared 
would be her own death, and that, if Edmund went, he should go 
alone. Each was so decided in his own views in this respect that 
Ada saw that it was imjjossible for her parents to agree. It was 
the first time in all their married life that they so entirely dis- 
iigreed and each remained so unyielding. They both agreed, 
however, in being opposed to either Edmund or Ada going. So 
matters stood when Ada left to meet Edmund at dinner. She 
found Alfred and Alice with Edmund, on her return home. 
That evening the whole matter was discussed over and over. At 
length Alice said: 

"I see how you and Ada both feel. Edmund, you do not 
want to go if Ada is not to go with you, and she fears to take 
the children, and is loth to give such great pain to her dear 
mother, who has been such a loving, good mother to her all her 
life, and yet it is an agony to her to keep you at home when 
your own judgment says ' Go/ or to separate from you and let 
you go alone. As the matter looks to me, Edmund, I think you 
must let Ada decide the whole matter for herself. I know 
she will not like to do this, and that it will be most i^ainful to 
her, but I see no escape from it, taking all the circumstances 
into consideration; but I think you must both adopt this idea, 
and act upon it without hesitation." 

" The only objection I have to what you say, Alice," said Ed- 
mund, " is that it looks ungenerous to darling Ada to throw 
such a responsibility on her." 



346 PIONEER TIMES IN CALIEORNIA. 

As poor Ada listened, tears ran down lier cheeks, but, wiping' 
them away, she said, in a firm voice: 

" Well, darling husband, I will take the responsibility and de- 
cide for us both. It is the only way I see to solve the difficulty. 
I will see dear mother, and do my best to get her consent, and 
if I do, I will go with you. But if she will not .yield, let us take 
it for the best, and then, darling, why, I will let you go without 
me." 

And, in spite of all her efforts, she was again in tears. But 
Edmund caressed her, and she soon recovered herself. The 
next day Ada had a private interview with her father, which re- 
sulted in his promising to do all in his power to get her mother's 
consent to her going with Edmund. In the conversation which 
ensued between Mr. and Mrs. Morehouse, Mrs. Morehouse ex- 
claimed: " I am perfectly astonished, Willard, to hear you talk 
in this way. OnW think, after all the jjains we took to educate 
and give Ada the advantage of acquiring every accomplishment 
to make her an ornament to society, for which she is so well fit- 
ted and in which she is so much admired, that you should now 
advocate her burying herself in that horrid California, that no 
one knows anything about, and that will be overrun with horrid, 
rough characters. Why, no virtuous woman would be safe there, 
and, if Edmund takes Ada there, he will be murdered in trying 
to defend her." 

" My dear Sarah, your feelings on this occasion entirely cloud 
your usually clear judgment. In the first j)lace, we educated 
Ada not to set herself uj) for a show; not simply to please what 
is termed " society" among the heartless, worldly fashionables. 
No, wife; our object was to fit herto be the bright, accomplished 
and capable mistress of an American household, if it should be 
God's will to call her to that position, as it has been, and under 
any circumstances to be an educated, refined lady, who would 
ever bring sunshine and happiness to those around her, let her 
condition in life be what it might. The fruit of a refined edu- 
cation, viewed rightly, is as potent for happiness to its possessor 
on the banks of the far-off Sacramento or San Joaquin as it is 
here in Newark, or even in the city of New York; and as to be- 
ing in danger in California, in my experience in my pixjfession 
I have seen enough to know that the eyes of a virtuous woman 
are more powerful as a defence of her person than the revolver 
and the bowie-knife of the stronsrest man are to him. Before 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 347 

them the libertine quails, while the simple murderer might re- 
main undaunted before his armed victims. But, wife, who are 
those men whe will now mostly overrun California ? They will 
be Americans, the most courteous and considerate people on 
earth to women, except alone, perhaps, the Irish and French, 
who, as we see them here, cannot be outdone in this respect 
by any nation on earth. You will find that a lady in California 
will be an object of universal respect, and woe to the 
traitor who offers one of them an insult. I pity him, if 
such a wretch deserves any pity, for his shrive will be short, and 
his fate the gibbet or worse. My professional experience, too, 
is terribly against married people separating for any consider- 
able time. Take what I have said, dear wife, into consideration, 
and see if you can bring yourself to make this sacrifice for 
the good of our dear ones." 

Then Mr. Morehouse walked over to where his wife was weep- 
ing bitterly, and, kissing her affectionately, he left the room. 
Some days passed after this conversation, but Mrs. Morehouse 
remained immovable, and the result was that Edmund left for 
California without wife or children. 



CHAPTER X. 



riEST LETTER FROM EDMUND MRS. BUCKET. 

Allen & Roman took a young man into partnership in their 
business, of the name of Wheeler, and now the firm in San 
Francisco was to be " Allen, Wheeler & Co.," and Wheeler was 
to accompany Edmund to California. They took a handsome 
stock of goods with them, and, if successful, Alfred Roman was 
to close the Newark house and take an office in New York, to at- 
tend solel,y to the purchasing of supplies for his partners in San 
Francisco. Robert Morehouse, just returned from college, was to 
live with his sister Ada, and she was to remain in her own house 
until she should hear from Edmund. 

The parting day came, and, as may be supposed, was as sad as 
sad could be to them both; but the wild dreams of California 
gave them both feverish strength to endure what, a year before, 
they could not have imagined they would have voluntarily sub- 
mitted to — a separation for so long a time and for such a journey. 
It was nearly two months before Ada got her first letter from 
Edmund. She tore it open, trembling all over, while tears ran 
down her cheeks. Glancing through it, she saw he was well; 
then she dropped on her knees, bowed her head and thanked the 
Giver of all good most fervently. Edmund wrote in higii spirits 
of the business prospects in California, and told her many laugh- 
able incidents of the journey and the place. Then the last page 
was wholly devoted to her and the children, and, as she reads it, 
she is interrupted by her tears and sobs. Take the letter as a 
whole, however, it is most consoling and satisfactory, and calcu- 
lated to make her feel much happier than she had been at any 
time since it was determined that Edmund should go to Califor- 
nia. Now everything goes on smoothly. Every mail brings 
long letters from Edmund to Ada and the firm. His orders for 
more goods, and his shipments of gold-dust are much larger 
than their most sanguine expectations had hoped for. Alfred 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 349 

Eoman has closed the Nmvark store, and is now in his office in 
New York every day, purchasing goods ordered by his partners in 
San Francisco. 

When Edmund was away about six months he wrote Ada a 
letter, expressing more than usual lonesomeness and homesick- 
ness. The letter ran on to say : 

The accident of a doubtful debt induced me to purchase a nice little cottage 
on Stockton street, all handsomely furnished, and do you know that I have 
got it into my head to ask you to come out and occupy it, instead of renting 
it, as I first intended to do. Oh, Ada, how supremely happy that would make 
me. A.S I have often written to you before, the idea of California being no 
place for women is a stale humbug. There are a large number of highly re- 
spectable families, not only hero in San Francisco, but in all the interior 
towns of the State. I attended a little party to which I was invited the other 
evening. I went there more to see how the company would look than from 
any pleasure I expected to derive from the party itself. I assure you I was 
quite astonished to meet so many nice ladies as I found there. They were 
refined, elegant women, too, with hardly an exception. They were all mar- 
ried, and had their husbands with them. Lucky fellows ! So don't be jeal- 
ous, old woman. You would have been charmed, darling, with this little 
company. Everybody seemed to know everybody in a minute. There was 
no formalit}^ and j'et there was no want of due politeness and consideration 
for each other. No offensive familiarity either. I was delighted, and re- 
solved to write to you about coming out. Does your dear mother look on 
such a move with any more favor ? Do, darling Ada, try to get her consent, 
for lonesome is no name for my feelings when I am without you. The fact 
is, I cannot endure this separation much longer. I wish to say to you here 
that you may now and then meet or hear of a poor, sneaking creature of a 
woman, or an inefficient, lazy, cowardly man, who has returned home from 
California to denounce it and vilify the people thej' left there. Pay no at- 
tention to such. They are unworthy of the least credit, or any notice what- 
ever. John W. Geary, who came out here as Postmaster, and who, when he 
lost that, managed himself into the office of Alcalde of San Francisco, has 
been so cowardly mean as to send home his wife and children, though one of 
the children was born here. Darling wife, do not regard such au example. 
Such men must live in the world, but of what use they are I do not under- 
stand. Come to me, dear wife, and you will find here not only a loving hus- 
band's arms open to receive you, but the greatest corner of the greatest coun- 
try on the face of the earth for you to live in." 

After Ada i-eceived this letter she again besought her mother 
to give her consent, but Mrs. Morehouse seemed unable to yield, 
and Ada could not summon courage to go without her mother's 
approbation. So passed throe months more, until one day Mrs. 
Morehouse was surprised by a call from a Mrs. Dr. Bucket. 

This Mrs. Bucket was the wife of a Doctor who had lived in New- 



350 PIONEEE TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 

ark for a number of years. Shortly after the breaking out of the 
California excitement, the Doctor left for San Francisco, and took 
his wife with him. In Newark, Dr. Bucket was considered a 
good physician, and was much resj)ected by all who knew him. 
The wife was in many respects a good sort of a person, but was 
talkative and fussy, and had a great desire to pry into and under- 
stand other people's business. This propensity often lost the 
Doctor valuable patients. Most jjeople, however, paid little at- 
tention to this propensity of Mrs. Bucket, and ascribed it to the 
fact that she had never been blessed with children. Be this as 
it may, it was sometimes very offensive. Her sudden appearance 
in Newark surprised all her old acquaintances, and, as soon as 
her presence was known, she became the center of attraction for 
all v>'ho had relations and friends in California, or who were 
thinking of going there. She was besieged with visitors. They 
all found her m high spirits, elegantly dressed and altogether 
the picture of happiness. She gave a glowing description of 
the business prospects of San Francisco, and, in ffict, of all 
California. No one, she said, who had a particle of energy 
could fail in California. But when she was surrounded by 
lady visitors only, she had a habit, at the end of her glowing 
description and praise of California, of throwing up her hands 
and exclaiming, in a sort of tragic horror: "But oh, my dear 
friends, the men out there are horribly wicked in one respect — 
yes, in one respect, ladies." Then, lowering her eyes as she 
looked over her gold specs, and letting down her voice, she 
would add in a confidential sort of tone: "They are all imtrue 
to their wives left at home. Yes; as horrible as it may seem, 
my dear friends, I tell you but simple truth when I say all." 

On one of these occasions, there was among her auditors a 
young, bright-eyed, little grass widow, whose faith in her own 
husband it was impossible to shake, and this sweeping assertion 
of Mrs. Bucket's only caused her lip to curl with contempt, 
while she said in a voice suited to her way of feeling: "Did 
you say all, Mrs. Bucket ?" 

" Yes, my dear friend," said Mrs. Bucket, in a sad sort of a 
tone of voice, " I did say all." 

" Well," responded the little widow, who felt spiteful and 
mischievous, "how about your own husband, while you are 
away now, Mrs. Bucket ?" 

This seemed rather to corner her for a moment, but, recover- 



PIONEER TIMES IM CALIFORNIA. 351 

ing- herself she said: " Well, to tell you the truth, I could not 
trust eveu the Doctor iu California, and would not have 
come away for this short trip but that the poor, dear man is laid 
up with a bad sprained knee, and cannot possibly get out before 
I got back." 

This candid acknowledgment was so absurd that the whole 
company joined in a hearty laugh at Mrs. Bucket's expense. This 
little turn against herself evidently angered Mrs. Bucket very 
much, and, biting her lip, she looked towards the author of her 
discomfiture with anything but a pleasant expression of face, 
but, wishing to pass it oft', she resumed: 

" Well, ladies, you may laugh as you please, but I am speak- 
ing for your own good; yes, only for your own good." 

As she said this her eyes were again over her glasses on the 
little widow, with a reproving expression. 

" And to convince you that I know what lam talking about, I 
will tell you an instance where I myself, yes, I myself, saved, 
yes, saved , I can truly say, a whole family. " 

Here she paused, and, in turn, looked at every one of her 
auditors, but finally rested her gaze on the little grass widow, 
and, in a voice of mysterious solemnity, continued: 

" You must know in the first place that I am remarkable for 
my detective talents." 

" We all knew that before you left here," broke in the little 
widow. 

Without noticing the interruption, Mrs. Bucket continued: 

•' So that many people in San Francisco believe me to be some 
blood relation of the famous detective of my name mentioned in 
one of Dickens' works; which is ridiculous, as my father's name 
was Pry." 

" Was his fii'st name Paul ?" interrupted the little widow. 

" No; it was Jacob," answered Mrs. Bucket, in an impatient, 
sharp tone, darting an angry look at her tormentor, "Well, 
ladies, those talents with which nature has endowed me, I thought, 
of right belonged to the people of our growing young city, in 
which my husband and myself have found such a prosperous and 
happy home; so, when the Doctor was out visiting his patients, 
and I had nothing else to do, I made it my business, yes, my 
datij, I may say, ladies, to watch my neighbors, andseo that they 
were going all right, and behaving as good Christians and citi- 
zens should behave; so, in pursuance of this self-sacrificing pur- 



352 PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 

pose, as soon as tbe dear Doctor was out of the house I used to 
put on my things and take a walk through all the neighboring 
streets, stopping occasionally, you know, at corner-groceries, 
butcher-shops, and even at some respectable looking drinking 
saloons, to make inquiries about one thing or another, and pick 
up all S07Hs of items of information. Well, on these excursions 
I often noticed at a nice house not far from where we lived, an 
over-dressed creature sitting in the window, always looking out 
when I jDassed. My curiosity, or rather, I should say, my desire 
to do good was aroused, so I made several inquiries as to the in- 
mates of that residence, and, ladies, I soon got at the truth, and 
was shocked. I found that a Mr. Briggs, a well-known merchant 
of San Francisco lived in this house. I would not thus tell his 
name, but that we are so far away that it can be of no conse- 
quence, for I am, I assure you, ladies, one of the most prudent, 
discreet persons on earth about such matters." 

" Of course you are, Mrs. Bucket," said the little widow. 

" Well, as I was saying, I found it was Mr. Briggs who lived 
there, and that he was a man of large family; but, ladies, his 
poor wife and children reside, at this vert/ time, you understand, 
in Cincinnati; so who could this over-dressed creature I had seen 
in the window be ? Well, I soon found out, and it was just as I 
feared; the case was as bad as you can imagine, ladies, so I felt 
it my duty, unjileasant duty, of course, but nevertheless a duiy 
I could not shrink fi'om, to inform Mrs. Briggs of the conduct 
of her husband, and to advise her to come at once to San Fran- 
cisco. This I did in a long, well-considered letter. This letter, 
of course, I did not show to the Doctor, because the Doctor, 
poor man, is one of those, I am sorry to say, who never will in- 
terfere in other people's business, no matter what the prospect 
may be of doing good. If that was my disposition, and I am 
glad it is not, I never would have saved this poor family, as you 
will presently hear. Well, as I was saying, I did not show the 
Doctor the letter, but privately disj^atched it to Mrs. Briggs. 
The husband had been keeping her well supplied with money. 
These California renegade husbands are very cunning in these 
respects; so look out, dear ladies." 

Here Mrs. Bucket again bent a meaning glance on the little 
widow, whose lijos, in respopse, curled contemptuously. 

" But the moment," continued the narrator, "the poor wife 
got my letter, which was so circumstantial in details of facts as 



PlONEEB TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 353 

to leave no room for a doubt, for, ladies, I never deal in anything 
hut facts." 

" Of course not, Mrs. Bucket," said the little widow, with the 
same contemptuous expression on her lips. 

At this interruption Mrs. Bucket turned uneasily in her chair, 
but continued: 

" The poor woman's eyes were opened, and she at once, to use 
a Western x^hrase of ours, ' pulled up stakes,' and was on her 
way to California with her five children, in three daj's after the 
receipt of my letter. They arrived all safely. I had given them 
the exact location and description of the house where Mr. Briggs 
lived, so that she had no difficulty in finding it. On arriving iu 
the city Mrs. Briggs went direct to the office of the Chief of Po- 
lice, Fallon, and inquired for Captain Casserly of the Police, just 
as I had recommended her to do. I recommended her to Caj:*- 
tain Casserly, for I am proud to be able to tell you, ladies, that 
he is a particular friend of mine. He is a very good sort of gen- 
tleman, though I am sorry to add that he is not properly nice in 
his ideas of this heart-rending evil I am constantly bemoaning 
in San Francisco. But he appreciates my detective abilities, and 
whenever he meets me he asks me for ' points ' about matters 
and things in general, as he knows I can give him valuable in- 
formation, and always reliable. And, then, I often get manj^ 
' points ' of great interest from him, especially about the conduct 
of married men." Here her eyes were again on the little widow. 
*' But, as I said, not being properly nice himself about such mat- 
ters, he only laughs and walks off when he sees how shocked I 
am at what he tells me." 

"Are such consultations common between gentlemen and la- 
dies in San Francisco ? " asked the little widow. 

At this Mrs. Bucket turned short around and in an angry voice 
said: " Madam, you should recollect that in my arduous self- 
sacrificing task of reforming immoral husbands, and restoring 
the moral wrecks to their often good-for-nothing wives, who have 
refused to go with them to California, I could properly hold a 
conversation with a respectable police officer like Captain Cas- 
serly, which it would be out of place and offensive to my natural 
delicacy of feeling, for which I am remarkable, to repeat here to 
you, ladies." Then turning away so as to cut off the retort she 
feared, she went on: " Mrs. Briggs did not find Captain Casserly, 

60 Chief Fallon sent officer Howard with her to the house I de- 
23 



£{54 PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 

scribed in my letter. When tliey arrived there officer Howard 
and Mrs. Briggs both walked up to the door. The officer rang 
the door bell, and out came, sure enough, the very over-dressed 
creature I had described in my letter to Mrs. Briggs as sitting in 
the window every day, looking out. ' Who are you, madam ?' 
said Mrs. Briggs, in a rage. ' I am Mrs. Briggs,' minced out 
the over-dressed creature. Then Captain Howard, seeing that 
the real Mrs. Briggs could not compose her temper, took the 
matter in his own hands. ' Miss Flouncy,' said he (these were 
his very words, ladies, for I had a description of the whole scene 
from the Captain himself). ' Miss Flouncy, I suppose you know 
me ?' ' Oh, yes. Captain, I do,' said the over-dressed creature. 
'Well, then,' said the officer, 'just get all your duds to- 
gether, and this hack will take you and them wherever you wish 
to go; for here is Mrs. Briggs and her five children, who come to 
take possession of this house.' 

" So, there being no alternative left for her, the over-dressed 
creature, without one word of remonstrance, did as she was or- 
dered; and Mrs. Briggs walked in and took full possession, with 
her five children. 

"When Mr. Briggs came home for dinner, you may imagine 
the scene; but the upshot of it was that, after some days, the 
husband and wife were reconciled, and they are now living a 
happy family, both most grateful to me." 

" Well," said the little widow, as Mrs. Bucket said 
the last words, with an air of triumph, "if I had been Mrs. 
Briggs, I would have got Captain Howard to tie a weight to that 
fellow's neck, and then pitch him off the wharf." 

"And I would have had the over-dressed creature pitched 
after him," added another California grass widow. 

" Ah, my dear ladies," said Mrs. Bucket, in a deep, sad tone: 
"your virtuous indignation is just like my own, but consider 
the children, and you will better understand poor Mrs. Briggs' 
conduct." 

"Well,", said the little widow, in a sarcastic tone, "Mrs. 
Bucket, if the Doctor should get well and get out, you know, as 
you said, before you get back, you can deal with him without the 
consideration that held poor Mrs. Briggs back. That will be 
one consolation you will have, you know." 

A suppressed titter ran through the company, and Mrs. Bucket 
looked very angry, for the little widow had struck her tenderest 
point. Kecovering herself, however, she resumed: 



PIONEER TIMES IX CALIFORNIA. 355 

" Now, ladies, I have told you all this for your own good — 
not, of course, for the sake of idle gossip, which every one 
knows I despise. You can make light of it or profit by it, 
ladies, just as you see fit; and in this same view I will tell you 
one more circumstance, on which you can put your own con- 
struction. I take the charitable view of it, for that is my way 
in all such matters. I am, in fact, too charitable, although I am 
sorry to acknowledge that the Doctor will not give me credit for 
that. "Well, you must know a poor confiding wife, and there 
are many such soft women, arrived in San Francisco on one of 
the steamers, and, not seeing her husband, coming on board to 
meet her, she got the Captain to send a messenger for him. 
The messenger arrived at the husband's house. It was late in 
the night, and the husband was in bed. The messenger, who 
personally knew the husband, knocked violently on the door, 
and called out: ' Fred, your wife has arrived, and is on board 
the steamer waiting for you." Now, ladies, what do you think 
was the answer of this loving husband?" Mrs. Bucket's eyes 
were again over her spectacles. " Yes," she repeated, with em- 
phasis; " what do you think it was, ladies? Why, he calls out, 
* Good Lord of Heavens! I told her to come round Cape Horn!' 
In a moment there was a great fuss in the house, and the mes- 
senger thought he heard talking. Then again the loving hus- 
band calls out, ' Bill, for Heaven's sake, do not let her leave 
the steamer until I come ! Tell her I have gone to get a car- 
riage.' What do you think of all that ? But hear the rest. 
Well, the poor wife gets home, delighted to be reunited to her 
husband. Poor thing ! And all goes well until the husband 
leaves for his place of business the next day, when the poor 
wife, who goes to regulating her house, finds a woman's dress 
hanging behind one of the doors. Well, she sits down and 
cries herself half sick, poor thing! And the husband comes 
home, and finds her in that terrible way. At first she refuses to 
tell him the cause of her trouble, but at length she points to 
the dress. And what do you think this cunning husband does ? 
Why, he just bursts out laughing, and exclaims: ' Why, my 
darling Sally, that is a dress I borrowed from a lady friend and 
hung up there to remind me of you. Were you really jealous, 
my little pet ? ' 

" Oh," the poor wife exclaimed, "how foolish I was; I see it 
all now; it was just like you!" 

" Then she kisses him and pets him, to make him forget that 



S56 PIONEER TIMES IX CALIFORNIA, 

she had been jealous. Well, ladies, I am of such a charitable 
turn of mind that I must believe this man was innocent. Yes; 
I must believe that he was glad his wife had arrived, and that she 
was not, as he thought she was, tossing in the storms off Cape 
Horn, while he was comfortably in bed that night. Yes, and 
that his motive was a good one when he told Bill not to let his 
wife get away from the steamer. Yes; I must believe his excuse, 
absurd as it was, about the dress. But, ladies, I will leave it to 
you to say whether, if I was like other people in charitable feel- 
ings, I could possibly acquit this man of being a terribly wicked 
hypocrite. Do not understand me, ladies, as wishing to destroy 
your amiable, sweet confidence in your husbands out therein Cali- 
fornia. No, no; T admire that, ladies, very much; it is so inno- 
cent and unsophisticated; but I just wish to hint that they will 
bear ivatcliing, as sure as you live. Now, ladies, excuse me, but I 
must close this interesting interview, for I have this day a very 
delicate task to perform; it makes me sad to think of it, for it 
concerns very near and old friends; I cannot even hint to you 
who it refers to, for that would violate my high ideas of the ob- 
ligation of friends to each other; but I will- just tell you that it 
is another Briggs case, almost precisely, and that the parties 
concerned have long been residents of this very town of Newark. 
No, there is no use in your asking me, ladies, I cannot tell you; 
no, T will tell no one but the parents of the lady; they can do as 
they like." 

All present at once saw that the parents she must mean were 
no other than the Morehouses, and all looked at each other with 
alarmed astonishment. 

"No," said Mrs. Bucket, arising from her seat, "there is no 
iise, ladies, I cannot give you the smallest hint of whom this case 
now in my hands refers to; it is a secret sacred with me; so good 
morning, ladies; I am glad to have met you, for it is really re- 
freshing to meet with ladies so full of child-like confidence in 
their husbands, and I sincerely hope you will never have cause 
to repent it." 

As she ceased speaking her eyes were fixed on the little widow 
with a look that seemed to mean anything but the wish she had 
expressed. After they gained the street, the little widow said: 

" I have a perfect horror of that woman, and I always had; I 
am sorry I went near her; I do not believe a word of her infa- 
mous hints about Mr. Allen, for, of course, she meant him." 

In these sentiments the ladies seemed to concur, and separated. 



CHAPTER XI. 

MB. AND MKS. MOREHOUSE AND MRS. BUCKET. 

When Mrs . Morehouse heard that Mrs . Dr. Bucket was in the 
parlor, she was perfectly astonished, and hastened to see her. 
Beaching' out her hand she exclaimed: 

" Oh, my dear Mrs. Bucket, I am so glad to see you; lam par- 
ticularly glad, as it shows me you had the good sense to leave 
that horrid California; I cannot bear to think of it. Didj'ou see 
my son-in-law, Mr. Allen, before leaving ? I hope he has come 
to his senses, and will soon return also. Well, allow me to fix a 
chair near the fire for you, for the day is cold, and I want you to 
tell me all the news, and ail about that horrid country you have 
left. Yes, sit down, and make yourself comfortable. I am so 
glad 3'ou came to see us so soon. Mr. Morehouse is out, but I can't 
wait for his return; so, at the risk of your having to tell it all 
over again, I want you to go on." 

Mrs. Bucket took the seat Mrs. Morehouse had placed for her, 
but seemed to be a little uneasy and fussy in her manner, and 
commenced by saying: 

" Well, my dear Mrs. Morehouse, I will, in the first place, tell 
you that I have not left California as you suppose. I have, in 
fact, come to make arrangements with an uncle of the Doctor's, 
who is rich, you know, to supply us with medicines for our drug 
store in San Francisco, where we are doing a most flourishing 
business, and making money very fast; and just as soon as these 
arrangements are completed I return to California without a day 
of unnecessary delay." 

" Why, you surprise me very much, my dear Mrs. Bucket. 
Are there any ladies in San Francisco? I mean respectable 
ladies.'' 

"Why, yes, Mrs. Morehouse; a great number of highly re- 
spectable ladies, and a great many nice, respectable families." 

" Why, I heard from a person who had just returned from 



858 PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 

California that the respectable women who had ventured out 
there were all returning, and that Colonel Geary, who had gone 
out there as postmaster, and had taken his family with him, had 
to send his wife home, as it was actually unsafe for a woman to 
reside there." 

" I believe Geary did send his wife home on some such excuse, 
but, if the truth was known, that was a mere excuse, because 
there is not a word of truth in such a statement; women are 
more thought of and as safe in San Francisco as they are here in 
Newark." 

"Well," said Mrs. Morehouse, willing to change the subject, 

" You and the Doctor have done well in San Francisco, you 
say." 

" Yes, my dear Mrs. Morehouse, exceedingly well; and we 
are, I feel sure, in a fair way to make a fortune." 

" I am truly glad, Mrs. Bucket, for your good fortune. How 
do you spend your time? What amusements have you out 
there?" 

" Well, as to amusements, we have very few; but I contrive to 
do a great deal of good in my spare time, for there is a great field 
in that country for well-directed efforts, in the way of helping 
newcomers and reforming some of those who are there." 

" Oh, I suppose you must be overrun with low characters ? " 

" No, Mrs. Morehouse, no; there is but one crying evil in San 
Francisco, and that is the conduct of married men who have 
left their wives here in the East. Their conduct is absolutely 
shocking and abominable ; and there is no exception, my dear 
Mrs. Morehouse." 

Here she lowered her voice to a confidential whisper, and 
looked hard at Mrs. Morehouse. 

"No exception, do you say, Mrs. Bucket?" said Mrs. More- 
house, catching her breath. 

"No, my dear Mrs. Morehouse; no exception can I make. I 
am sorry to say so to you, my dear friend." 

Here Mrs. Morehouse lay back in her chair, and seemed to fear 
to ask another question. So Mrs. Bucket went on: 

" You know, my dear Mrs. Morehouse, that I always had great 
detective talent — and this has enabled me to detect several gross 
cases of irregularity in the conduct of married men in San Fran- 
cisco. I, of course, do not look into their conduct through idle 
curiosity — you know me too well to think that — but it gives me , 



PIONEEB TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 359 

opportunities of doing much good, and, in one instance, it 
enabled me to save a whole family from ruin. I will just tell 
you how it was." Here Mrs. Bucket told the whole Briggs story, 
and concluded with : ' ' Now, my dear, i-espected friend, you have 
a son-in-law in San Francisco, and his wife is here." 

Then Mrs. Bucket paused, while she regarded Mrs. Morehouse 
with a sad, sorrowful expression of face. 

"Mrs. Bucket, do please go on," half gasped Mrs. More- 
house. 

" Oh, yes, I must go on, and sorry I am for it, my dear friend; 
but it is my duty to go on, and I am very sensitive to duty; but, 
in this case, the duty is so painful that I believe I would be a 
coward, and not perform it, if it were not for the respect, the es- 
teem, the love, I may say, with which I have always regarded 
both you and Mr. Morehouse." 

"Mrs. Bucket, you frighten me with all this preface. What can 
you be going to tell me ? Do say at once what it is you have 
to tell." 

" My dear Mrs. Morehouse, think how hard it is to me to 
break to you the matter now in hand ; but the harder it is the 
greater will be my consolation at having done my duty." 

" Mrs. Bucket, I can not and will not endure this suspense. 
Say out at once what you have to say." 

" Well, my dear Mrs. Morehouse, I am sorry to say that the 
case in hand is another Briggs' case, and that your son-in-law, 
Edmund F. Allen, is the man." 

"Impossible!" exclaimed Mrs. Morehouse, rising upon her 
feet in great excitement. " If you make that charge, madam, 
you will have to prove it, or suffer the consequences." 

This put a new and unexpected face on the whole matter to 
Mrs. Bucket. She turned deadly pale as the thought crossed 
her mind that, in point of fact, she had no positive proof of the 
charge against Edmund, although she firmly believed she was 
speaking the truth. 

To get out of the matter, she made up her mind to leave the 
house in dudgeon, and x'efuse to say another word on the subject, 
as though she had been insulted by Mrs. Morehouse. In pursu- 
ance of this idea, she started up and walked towards the door, at 
the same time saying: 

" Mrs, Morehouse, I came here with the best intentions. To 
give you information that would have enabled you to save your 



360 PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 

daughter's family ; but you have insulted me, so you shall hear 
no more from me, and you can take the consequences." 

As she said this, she turned to leave, but there stood Mr. More- 
house in the half-open door, listening in astonishment to her 
parting words. He had heard of Mrs. Bucket's return from 
California, but had not before seen her. Her words alarmed 
him, though he could not comprehend them. 

" Why, Mrs. Bucket, what is all this about ? Pray be seated 
and explain; for from the words I just heard I should judge they 
concerned us veiy much." 

This was said in a decided, almost authoritative tone, that left 
no choice to the lady but to take her seat again. Mrs. Morehouse, 
willing and, in fact, anxious that her husband should have an 
opportunity of satisfying himself, remained silent, regarding 
Mrs. Bucket, however, with a contemptuous look. 

" Now, Mrs. Bucket, please exj^lain fully what you deem to so 
much concern the welfare of our daughter's family, and, be as- 
sured, that neither Mrs. Morehouse nor myself will ascribe to 
you anything but good motives, even if you are mistaken in the 
correctness of the information you give us." 

"I am not mistaken, sir," said Mrs. Bucket, in the tone 
of one injured by an unjust suspicion. "And I do assure 
you, sir," she continued, " that nothing but the high respect and 
esteem I have for your family would have induced me to make 
the disclosure I have, as there is nothing so revolting to a na- 
ture like mine as to be the bearer of unwelcome news. In fact, 
I make it a rule to shut my eyes to the follies of the world, so 
that I may not be forced by a sense of duty to reveal unpleasant 
truths; but in this case, believing myself bound by the ties of old 
friendship, to look out for members of your family, I took pains 
to be fully posted and to make no mistake." 

" Please proceed, Mrs. Bucket, and explain fully all that re- 
lates to us and our daughter's family, and we will receive what 
you tell us in the proper spirit, I assure you." 

Mrs. Bucket then threw herself back in her chair and com- 
menced by a general onslaught on the grass widowers of San 
Francisco, and then went on to say : 

" Some three months ago, I observed that Mr. Allen purchased 
a nice cottage on Stockton street, and furnished it beautifully. 
Happening to meet him, I asked him if he expected Mrs. Al- 
len to come to California soon. He said : 



PIONEEK TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 361 

" ' No/ that she would not consent to join him, and added: 
" * I will not stand this living' alone much longer.' 
" I then asked him what he meant to do with his cottage. To 
this question he said, laughing : 

" ' Oh, you must not ask too many questions, Mrs. Bucket.' 
" So, having my own ideas, I left. Soon after this, I one day 
saw one of those over-dressed creatures, of which we have many 
in California, entering Mr. Allen's cottage. I was so surprised 
that, although it was raining, I stopped to watch the house, but 
she did not come out, and just as it Avas getting dark, and I was 
well benumbed by the cold and wet, I was shocked to see Edmund 
F. Allen himself entering the house; and he remained there also, 
my friends, for I watched until it was late. But, sir, I was not 
depending on this sort of evidence; for the next day, when I was 
turning out of Stockton street into Washington, I saw this very 
same over-dressed creature I had the evening before seen enter- 
ing Mr. Allen's house, standing in the butcher shop, which is on 
the southeast corner of those two streets. She had a small col- 
ored boy with her, holding in his hand a basket, into which, by 
her directions, the butcher was putting some meat and vegeta- 
bles. I stopped where I was, and looked on until this person 
and the boy came out of the butcher shop. I then followed 
them, at some distance, to make sure that she was in fact the 
creature I had seen the night before. Well, sir, it was so ; this 
very over-dressed creature and the boy entered the cottage. I 
had tried to get a sight of her face, but she kept her veil down, 
so that in this respect I failed. I was so shocked at this discov- 
er}' of Mr. Allen's conduct, knowing how you both and his poor 
wife would feel, that I could scarce support myself to make a 
further investigation, which I now felt it my imperative duty to 
make, so that there should not be a possibility of a mistake or a 
doubt as to the true position of matters. I say to you truly, that 
I could hardly support myself, but my love of morality and my 
anxiety to do good, and my high regard for my old friends, gave 
me strength, so I returned to the butcher shop and asked the 
butcher if he knew the lady who had just been there with a col- 
ored boy. His reply was that of course he did. I then asked 
him who she was. To this question he replied by asking me if I 
knew the man who lived in the handsome cottage on the next 
block ? I said : 

" ' Yes, it was Mr. Edmund F. Allen.' 



362 PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFOENIA. 

" ' Well, tlieu,' said be, ' that lady is Mr. Edmund F. Allen's 
wife.' 

Mrs. Bucket now saw that both Mr. and Mrs. Morebouse be- 
gan to show signs of being convinced, and of being in great agony 
of mind also. So, as she continued, she assumed a more fam- 
iliar and friendly tone, in which she wished to show sympathy. 

" Now, my dear friends, I was not yet perfectly satisfied ; that 
is, satisfied so that I could speak to you without having a shad- 
ow of a doubt, so I watched for a chance to see the colored boy 
alone. I was fortunate, for the very next day he came to our 
drug store for sticking plaster. The Doctor was out, so I had 
just the opportunity- I wanted. 

" ' Who do you want the sticking plasterfor, my boy?' I asked, 
in a careless voice. 

" ' For the madam; she wants to put it on her husband's face, 
where he cut himself, shaving, this morning.' 

' ' ' Has Mr. Allen been long married ?' said I, still in an indif- 
ferent tone. 

" ' Before I saw him,' said the boy. 

" ' Oh ! You have not been long with him, then.' 

" ' No; the madam hired me.' 

" ' Is the madam very handsome?' said I. 

" ' Oh, yes; very handsome. She is French.* 

" ' Does she speak English ?' said I. 

" ' Only a little to Mr. Allen; and he is trying to learn French 
all the time.' 

" This I considered enough, but I have yet one more proof. In 
three or four days after I had this conversation with the hoy, I 
met Mr. Allen and made an excuse to talk with him. He had 
not the sticking plaster on his face, but I saw plainly where it 
had been. Just as J was leaving him, I looked straight in his 
face and asked him if he understood French. It was just as I 
thought, my friends. He grew scarlet and seemed very much 
confused, then said : 

' ' ' Why do you ask that question, Mrs. Bucket ? I wish I did 
understand it. I have a particular reason for wishing to be flu- 
ent in it just now.' 

' ' I now became perfectly satisfied, and thought further investi- 
gation more than useless, and in about ten days after that con- 
versation I left California for the Eastern States. "I Avill 
conclude by saying that I am very sorry to be the bearer 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFOKNIA. 3G3 

of such very bad news to you both, but I am sure you will ap- 
preciate my motives and ascribe them to my great friendship for 
you both." 

Mr. Morehouse now took Mrs. Bucket in hand to cross-ques- 
tion her, bringing all his old practice as a lawyer to his aid in 
cloiug so. She saw his object, and was determined he should not 
get the least comfort from her answers. The more he questioned 
her the more she made Edmund's guilt appear, until, at length, 
she declared that his living, as she intimated, was notorious in 
San Francisco. Mrs. Bucket now rose from her seat to bid Mr. 
and Mrs. Morehouse good afternoon. Mrs. Morehouse either 
did not see her motions, or jjretended not to do so, and abruptly 
left the room. Mr. Morehouse politely showed her out, and bade 
her good afternoon in as friendly a tone as he could command. 

When he returned to the parlor, he found his wife weeping 
bitterly; and, in great grief, she exclaimed: 

" Oh, Willard! Who could have thought that Edmund Allen 
would have turned out such a scamp ? I thought he loved Ada 
as he did his life, and now he dishonors her and his children. 
What will our darling child do when she hears of it ? Do say, 
Willard, if you found anything in that horrid woman's story to 
make you doubt that she told the truth, for it is too horrid to 
believe." 

Mr. Morehouse continued to pace up and down the parlor 
for some minutes in evident agitation. He then said : 

" I believe that woman thinks she is telling tho truth, and, I 
must say, I fear she is doing so. As you say, Sarah, it is truly 
terrible to think how our poor Ada will feel when she hears it." 

" Well, then," said Mrs. Morehouse, sitting up erect, " if it 
is true, there is nothing for her to do but to sue for a divorce and 
let him and his French lady go." 

Mr. Morehouse stopped walking and threw himself into a chair. 
Then, in a sorrowful tone, addressed his wife: 

" Sarah, we have been in fault ourselves in this matter. Ed- 
mund would have taken his wife with him, but for us." 

" Oh, Willard! It was not you who held her back. You are 
not in fault." 

" Well, my dear wife, what you did, we both did. I ask not 
to escape, for I could have got your consent, had I sued for it 
properly; but, Sarah, we are both in fault, and the word ' divorce' 
must never come from either of us. We have no right, under 



8G4: PIONEER TI3IES IN CALIFORNIA. 

the circumstances, to even breathe such an idea. If the horrid 
word is ever spoken, it must come alone from Ada herself. Oh, 
Sarah! Think of our child being a 'divorced woman,' for, no 
matter where the fault lies, her caste in the community is forever 
gone. Think, too, of those little ones being the children of 'di- 
vorced parents. Their bright prosj)ects being forever blighted !" 

" Well, my darling husband, it shall be as you say. You are 
always generous to me, more so than I deserve. I was selfish, or 
I would have let Ada go when her husband wrote for her the last 
time. Yes, I was horribly selfish; but I am terribly punished. 
Oh, what will Ada do or say? How can we break it to her? I 
could not do it." 

And here again Mrs. Morehouse burst into tears and sobbing. 

" That is my duty," said Mr. Morehouse, in a firm and calm 
voice; " and I will, therefore, undertake it; and then poor Ada 
will want me near her when she receives the shock. Do not give 
way. to such grief, Avife, but trust that God will give her strength, 
for you know He says : ' The winds are tempered to the shorn 
lamb.' She is least in fault, because it was to filial love she yield- 
ed when she did not respond to her husband's call. This will 
be a comfort to her now, for she did not shrink from the duty of 
a wife through any selfish desire of ease." 

" When do you go to the poor child, Willard ? " 

" This evening, wife — at once, in fact; for the sooner what 
has to be done is done, the better for us all." 

Mr. Morehouse arose from his seat, and again paced the par- 
lor floor, with his head bent forward, his eyes fixed on the car- 
pet, with a slow measured tread, absorbed in the deepest 
thought. His wife did not again disturb him, but continued to 
weep in silence. In this way half an hour may have passed, 
when Mr. Morehouse stopped short in his walk as he passed his 
wife's chair, stooped and kissed her, and then turned to leave 
the parlor. His wife laid her hand gently on his arm, and said, 
in a low, half-choked voice: 

" Tell her I will come in a little while." 

"Yes, dear; I will," said Mi\ Morehouse, again kissing her. 

In a moment more the outside door was opened and closed, 
and Mr. Morehouse was on his way to Ada's house. 



CHAPTER XII. 

THE WELCOME LETTER FROM EDMUND. 

The California steamer that had brought Mrs. Bucket also 
brought Ada's usual letter from Edmund; but in this instance 
the steamer had arrived so late in the evening that Ada had to 
wait until the next morning for her letter. Somehow, it never 
seemed so hard for her to wait for the delivery of letters before, 
as it did this time. Alfred Roman wrote her a note to say that 
the steamer was in, but that he could not get the mail until 
eight o'clock in the morning, and that he would send her letter 
to her the moment it came to hand. After she retired to bed, 
she could not sleep. Over and over she read the letter in imag- 
ination, and while she did so she would sometimes drop into a 
half-sleep, and now the letter became an immense sheet before, 
her, and began to tell her of frightful things — of sickness, of 
fires, of earthquakes and of personal dangers besetting Ed- 
mund — until, stai'ting from her sleep, she would recover her 
consciousness. So the long, long night wore away, and when 
the bright morning light dawned, it found her feverish and 
worn out with unaccountably anxious thoughts. The letter 
promptly came, as Alfred had promised. She looked at the ad- 
dress. It was in Edmund's well-known bold hand — " Mrs. 
Edmund F. Allen, Newark^ N. J." Passionately kissing it, she 
threw herself into a chair, and, opening it, read as follows: 

My Own Daelino Wife : This is Sunday evening. I am seated in my little 
bed-room writing this letter. Things are more comfortable than they used to 
be around me. In fact, to look around this room one would suppose it had 
your superintendence. Well, notwithstanding this, I am not at ease, my 
darling wife. If you were here, I feel that I would be a better man, as well 
as a thousand times more happy. Well, as I have had a sort of an adventure 
to-day, and not much else of interest to tell you, I will give you an account 
of it and of all my thoughts and doings this Sabbath day. I feel like doing 
this as I am uncommonly lonesome — sad and disturbed in my feelings the 
whole day. Why this is so I cannot tell; but I suppose every one is subject 
to such turns. 



366 PIONEEK TIMES IN CALIEOENIA, 

After our breakfast I walked to the Catholic church, on Vallejo street. This 
church has just been finished, and is quite a church building for San Fran- 
cisco. It is a plain wooden structure, not one ornament of any description 
on it; but it is such an improvement on the little, old dwelling-house where 
the Catholics heretofore had service, that it looks quite grand. It is about 
such a building a^ would be considered a good barn with you in "the States," 
as they say here. It, however, cost a large sum of money, lumber being 
worth over two hundred dollars per thousand feet in this town just now. The 
Catholics here being few, and some of them not very zealous, it was found 
very hard to raise the necessary funds to complete this church. However, 
just at the right time, a Mr. John Sullivan arrived from the mines with gold 
dust enough, it is said, to sink a reasonably large ship, and, with a liberality 
worthy of his good fortune in the mines, stepped forward and advanced 
enough of money to complete the building ; so that now Father Langloir, a 
good little Canadian priest, has the satisfaction of having the best church 
building, and much the largest congregation, of any denomination in San 
Francisco, under his charge. 

To-day a Father Coyle, a priest who arrived here a few months ago, preach- 
ed, as he often does, a rather peculiar, but a most eloquent sermon. I none 
part of it he touched all our hearts by alluding, in the most beautiful and 
feeling language, to our loved friends in their distant homes. To be worthy 
of these dear friends, to be worthy of being citizens of this glorious nation 
of ours, were some of the motives he urged upon us for leading a spotless 
life here in San Francisco, where so many give themselves up to excesses. 

" We must not forget," he said, "that we were sent here, plainly by God 
Himself, as pioneers in the great work of laying the foundation of the huge 
pillar upon which the American Temple of Liberty is to rest here, on 
the Pacific Coast, 

"Yes," he continued, while his eyes flashed with enthusiasm, " we are a 
chosen band, a chosen people, to do this work. The day will come when 
others will be chosen and sent north, and yet others far away to the south, 
to do the same kind of work we are doing hero in California; for this great 
Temple of Liberty will not be beautiful in its architectural construction, nor 
in its enduring strength, while it rests on the shores of only the Atlantic 
and Pacific for support. No ; it must also have a base resting close to the 
frozen oceans of the north, and another on the sunny lauds of the Isthmus 
of Panama. 

"Then will the unnatural foreign rule have vanished from the north, 
and puerile attempts at government from the south, leaving the whole conti- 
nent the iindisputed 'laud of the free and the home of the brave.' Then 
will the monarchs and tyrannical governments of the earth stand astonished; 
for the great center-piece or mighty dome of this American Temple will rise, 
towering up in beauty, magnificence and power; and upon it shall stand the 
Goddess of Liberty, plainly in sight to the ends of the earth, holding aloft 
in one hand that civilizer of nations, the Cross, and in the other our na- 
tional emblem, the Starry Banner. No clouds will dare obscure this beau- 
tiful vision. Sunlight will ever gild it, and reflect from it such warm, genial 
rays that they shall everywhere be felt, causing to fructify and warm 



tlONEER TIMES IN CALrFORNU. 367 

Into life every scattered seed of liberty now lying as dead in the cold atmos- 
phere of misgovevnment and tyranny. 

"Yes, you men, California pioneers, here before me, recollect that God has 
given you a glorious task. He has honored you in this choice; honor Him 
in your lives. I am proud, too, that there are so many of your wives and 
sisters here with you. They have an angel's part in this great work. They 
cheer and encourage you in all that is good and virtuous. They stand ready 
with cup in hand to refresh you when you thirst, and when you are tii'ed 
and weary, they, with gentle hands, will wipe the sweat from your brow. 
Yes, California will owe these pioneer women more than can ever be repaid; 
for, in heroic courage and self-sacrificing devotion to their duties, as wives, 
sisters and mother3, they are unsurpassed by any women in the history of 
our country. Californians, be proud of them, and ever guai'd their honor 
with a thousand times more jealous care than you would your own lives." 

I have given more of this sermon than I intended, but it pleased me, and 
I liked his views of the rush of our people to this coast; for, you see, he 
does not look on us, as others pretend to do, merely as sordid gold-hunters, 
but rather as an advance guard of honor, inspired by the genius of American 
liberty and progress, to come here and arouse into life this glorious western 
addition to our Republic. These views accord with mine exactly, and I shall 
never be satisfied until my darling wife is here by my side, to share with me 
in the glory of being one of the founders of this city of San Francisco, des- 
tined, as it surely is, at a future day, to outstrip the largest and proudest city 
on the Atlantic seaboard. The church music we had to-day was very fine, in 
fact it was beautiful, but somehow it made mo feel very sad and lonesome . 
When I left the church I did not feel like x'eturning home for lunch, so I 
struck out on a walk towards the ocean, over the sand hills I have so often 
described to you. An hour and a half brought me to a high bluff, almost 
due west from the city, ovei-lookiug the ocean. I was well tired, so I threw 
myself down bj' a large rock that, with some scrub oaks that grew near it, 
formed a sort of a shelter, and I had a fine view of the grand old ocean . The 
day was beautiful, but the sea showed signs of late great commotion, for 
hup^e waves broke on the shore and against the bluff where I lay with terrible 
force. This was a scene that always fascinates me, and I lay there for an 
hour, gazing out on the mighty water. Man, and all his wants and cares, 
yes, all the nations of the earth and their affairs seem to sink into insig- 
nificance and nothingness when one is contemplating this vast and fearful 
element, striking towards you with its ever thundering, roaring crash, and 
then receding with sluggish and, as it were, sullen disappointment, to gather 
new power for another blow against the barrier that dares to limit its sway. 
You can half fancy that you hear the great Creator saying: " Come here, 
you little creatures of men, that are so puffed up and swollen out with your 
own fancied importance, and look at a little piece of my work!" 

At length my eyes grew heav3', and as I yielded to the inclination to sleep 
I found myself repeating over and over Dickens' sick child's question, 
" What are the wild waves saying ?" Now the landscape before me seemud 
to change. It grew dark and stormy; far away over the sea, I could see tho 
opposite shore, and there I saw yon standing, dressed just as you were the 



3G8 PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 

morning we parted; but your countenance now expressed terror in every 
feature, and your arms were stretched out as if in an effort to reach me. 
'-I'hen another change came. The ocean now ran full of mountains of broken 
ice, all crashing together with a horrid noise, and over it you came rushing 
with fearful leaps, with the children in your arms. " Why," said I, " this 
is Ada's dream realized. Oh. no; it cannot be. It must be that I am my- 
self dreaming." And then I seemed to make desperate efforts to arouse my- 
self, but now, to my horror, somo one seemed to grasp me, and, locking up, 
there stood Madam Defray over me, with her horny fingers on my throat, 
while she began to drag me towards the edge of the cliff, evidently in- 
tending to fling me into the sea. I seemed to struggle with desperation, 
but nearer and nearer we came to the frightful precipice, and closer and 
closer her bony fingers sank into my throat. I seized her with both hands, 
and called for you to come and help me. I heard you give a frightful 
scream, and then the fiend-woman, with a demoniacal chuckle of triumph, 
raised me high in the air and pitched me off, and I awoke excited and trem- 
bling in every limb. Just then I heard a,nother scream. Jumping to my 
feet, I saw, soaring high above the dark waters of the sea, an immense sea- 
bird, keeping itself in harmony with the wild scene in which it was taking 
such evident delight, by screaming horribly. 

All I had gone through in this sleep was so vividly before me, and so seem" 
ing real, that it was some minutes before I could make myself believe that I 
was the victim of a nightmare. I found that while struggling in the dream 
I had torn up a bunch of California lupins, that grew near where I was 
lying, and in some way I cut one of my temjjles slightly. I think I never 
suffered as much in the same space of time, either awake or asleep, in all mj' 
life before. The choking sensation in my throat continued for an hour. 
You may judge that I had enough of the ocean for one day. A quick, long 
walk home was just what I needed to work off the effects of this frightful 
dream, and yet it did not wholly do so. What continued to disturb me most, 
was the circumstance of that dream of yours coming to my imagination in 
this frightful way, for it never had come to my thoughts before since the 
night yoa dreamed it. However, as you know, I do not lay much stress on 
dreams, and after a good night's rest and to-morrow's rushing work, I shall 
have forgotten it, and my sea-side nightmare, which was my Sunday's ad- 
ventures, I told you I would relate. 

With a thousand and a thousand kisses, and hugs for each of my darling 
little ones, and five times as many for your own dear self — 
I remain, as always, 

Your loving husband, 

Edmund F. Allen. 



CHAPTER Xin. 



THE WIFE S ANXIETY DEPARTURE. 



As Ada finished reading her husband's letter, she let it drop, 
■with one hand holding it, into her lap, while she supported her 
head with the other hand, as her elbow rested on the arm of her 
easy chair. She seemed buried in thought for a long time. 
Speaking audibly to herself, she said : 

' ' That dream ; how strange that it should have come to him in 
that horrid way ! What can it mean ? Nothing, I suppose; yet 
how very strange. Who is living with him ? Who takes care of 
his room, which he says was so comfortable ? Strange he does 
not tell me. After " our breakfast," he says. Who took break- 
fast with him? Strange he does not tell me ! Who can Madam 
Defray be ? He must have some one living with him in that cot- 
tage he bought. Who can it be ? Why does he not tell me ? 
Why does he talk of being a better man if I were with him ? 
I always thought he was better than I was. Why was he so 
troubled in mind ? Pshaw ! I believe I am a little fool, and get- 
ting jealous ; talking in this sort of a way looks like it. No, I 
am not jealous ; if I were to get jealous, I believe I would go 
mad. That is, if I had cause to be jealous; but dear Edmund 
should have explained. It would have been just so jjleasant if 
he had done so. Not that I care, for I know I am not jealous in 
the least. The fact is, I could not be jealous of Edmund; that 
is, and live ; so it is foolish even to think of it. Why is it that 
this letter does not seem like all his other letters ? I suppose he 
was, as he said he was, troubled in mind. Oh, dear ! I wonder 
he did not explain. This letter is a nice, interesting letter, but 
I wish he had not told me about that horrid dream, and that 
fiend of a woman Defray. Oh, yes; I am glad he told it. I want 
to know everything about him. I wish he had told me more. 
This is about such a letter as he would write to his sister Alice, 

or to his mother. His letters to me were alwavs not of that kind. 
24 



370 PIONEEB TIMES IN CALIFOKNIA. 

There was love in every line of them ; as I read them I felt as if 
I were in a dream, listening to sweeter music than ever was on 
earth. They were dearer and sweeter, because they were writ- 
ten for me alone, and no one on earth could understand them as I 
did, for it was his heart speaking to mine, in language our love 
for each other had taught us. This letter others can read and 
undei'stand. But why do I grumble ? The poor, darling fellow 
was troubled in his mind, and could not write as he used to do. 
I wish I were there. I ought to be there." 

" Yes," said she, rising from her seat, laying the letter on the 
piano, and with both her hands rubbing back her clustering, 
loose hair from her temples; " I do wish mother had let me go 
when he bought that coutage and wrote for me. Yes; there is no 
use in talking, I mitst and lolll go. I am sick of being classed as 
a ' California widow. ' They are getting to be such a despised 
class ; some of them are baliaving themselves so badly." 

Ada now looked pale and troubled. Her right hand she pressed 
across her breast, over her heart. Upon her left she rested her 
forehead, as she leaned her head forward. In this position she 
silently walked up and down the parlor for ten or fifteen min- 
utes. At length she murmured: " Oh, what is it that makes me 
so troubled and so unhappy? I must read his letter again ; it 
must be that I am capLiou5 to-day, and that I only fancy this 
letter restrained and cold, a? it ware, compared with all his oth- 
ers. His letters always sounded to me like the joyous song of a 
bird, and flooded my heart with happiness. " Yes," she contin- 
ued, as she now walked over to the piano and took the letter, 
and again throwing herself into tha chair; " let me read it 
over once more; I must have taken a wrong view of it." 

Now she read it over slowly and carefully. As she came to 
his frightful vision on the cliff, she started and turned deadly 
pale, and, covering her eyes with her hand, let her head drop 
back and rest for a moment on the back of the chair. Then, 
seeming to recover herself, she resumed her reading. "When 
she concluded, she sat in thought for amom3nt, then said aloud: 

" Yes; I will go and see Alice. She comes nearer to Edmund 
than any one I know on earth, and I am always happy when I 
am with her." 

She rose, went to the nursery, hugged and kissed the children, 
telling them that they were papa's kissss and hugs that he sent 
them in a letter. Then she gave some general directions to the 
nurse, telling her that she was going to Mrs. Roman's, and 



KONEER TIMES IN CALITORNIA, 371 

would return very soon. But Ada, after her long walk, did not 
find Alice at liome. She had gone to New York that morning-, 
not to be home, the housekeeper said, until evening. Ada felt 
very much disappointed, and was now really in low spirits. As 
she walked home, tears stole down her cheeks, in spite of all she 
could do to restrain them. On her way, it so happened that she 
passed the church where Edmund had a pew. The door of the 
church was open, as if inviting her. After a moment's hesitation, 
she entered and stole noiselessly into her husband's pew. Every- 
thing around was so silent and impressive tliat it filled her with 
awe. She knelt, where Edmund had so often knelt, and, covering 
her face with her hands, she leaned her head forward, on the lit- 
tle shelf in front, and, while tears streamed through her fingers, 
she murmured : 

" Oh, Grod! forgive me for all transgressions, and do not let 
me lose faith in my husband. Do not let me believe evil of him. 
Oh, give my weak heart courage to do what is right in all things. 
Oh, show me what I should do, and give me strength to do it." 

As she left the church, she thought her prayer was heard; for, 
though yet agitated, she knew not why, she felt perfectly decided 
as to her future course, and full of resolute courage to meet all 
the difficulties that might rise up to oppose her. 

" Yes," she said to herself, as she gained her own door; " the 
next steamer that leaves for California after the one that leave? 
the day after to-morrow shall take me; that is settled; I wil 
begin my preparations this very day, just as soon as I eat dinner 
with the children and Robert. I will not tell brother Robert, 
but I will send him, after dinner, for father, as I want to tell 
him, and get his consent and blessing, and he will get mother's 
consent I know, when she finds how miserable I am. I love my 
darling parents as well, I am sure, as ever child loved before, 
but I am a wife and a mother, and it is God who has made that 
tie above all others on earth, and I realize that it is so; it ap- 
pears to me to-day more plainly than it ever did before." 

Now, if Ada had heard what Edmund had said aloud to him- 
self as he walked over the sand-hills on his way back to San 
Francisco that Sunday he had the seaside nightmare, it would 
have explained to her who Madam Defray was, but it might not 
have lessened her anxiety; and if she had seen the reception he 
met with at his own cottage that evening, it surely would have 
made matters worse. As he strode along, he said aloud: 

" How strange that Madam Defray should have appeared to 



372 PIOXEEK TTMES IX CAUFOKNTA. 

me in that borrid way. Well, I will drop her aud ber concei'ts. 
It was not enough that she got me to joiu in i^iguiug that card 
asking her to repeat her concert, but she must have me go to her 
reheai-sals. where she is surrounded by those tawdry girls. I 
will talco this as a warning, any way; there is no harm in that. 
So. Madam Defray, I am done with you; I feel your bony lin- 
ger.s on my throat yet!" 

As he entered the gate at his own little cottage, a handsome 
little French woman throws open the front door, and exclaims, 
in charming broken English : 

'' O dear! my heart's all sorry; one dinner all no hot; no in 
time, Mr. AUainc ; I put dinner in hot stove, but longtime not 
here."' 

Edmund shook hands with her cordially, saying: 

"My dear Madam Bellemere, do not make youi*self unhappy; 
I am so hungry that dinner will taste lirst-rate, hot or cold.'' 

And so it proved, for Edmund ate most heartily, and then re- 
tired to his room to write the letter Ada had just rea<I. 

Ada having taken the resolution to go to Calif o)-nia without 
consulting any of her relatives, and apprehending opposition 
from nearly all of them, she became excited, and nervous in her 
whole manner. At dinner her brother observed it, and said: 

"■ Why, sister Ada, what is the matter vrith you? I do believe 
you have been crying. Are you well, dear sister? Mr. Roman 
told me that brother Edmund was well, and doing well. Is he 
not ? " 

" Oh, yes, dear Robert, perfectly well; I have been a little 
excited by my walk to see Alice, and then I have a plan on hand 
that keeps me a little fussed; 1 will tell you all about it to-moi-- 
row. I want particularly to see father this evening. Would you, 
dear brother, go and ask him to come ?' 

Robert, of course, readily consented, and, on leaving the 
table, started for his father's house. On the way Robert met a 
college friend, who detained him talking, so that he did not get 
to his father's until after Mr. Morehouse had left on his mission 
to see Ada. After Robert left the house, Ada became more aud 
more nervously excited, as she anticipated, in imagination, the 
coming scene with her father, .ill his love for her, as she now 
looked back to her earliest recollections, manifested as that love 
was in so many thousand ways, came to her mind. She could not 
draw to her mind one seltish word or act of his towards her; not 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 373 

even aii angry word or look. She was always bis pet, his dar- 
ling, yet he never passed over the most tiivial fault without 
pointing: it out to her; but even when he reproved her he made 
hor fool that ho did so because of his watchful, devoted love. 
In all her little childish troubles she flew to him, and always left 
him comforted, and resolved to do as he advised, rather than 
commanded. Ho was to her at such times what the great oak 
tree is to a frightened bird in a storm. This was the fooling that 
prompted her to send foi- him just now. She felt a storm im- 
pending, and she wanted to draw protection from the great old 
oak that had novor failed her. As she waited his coming she 
felt, in fact, like a child, and could hardly make herself believe 
she was the mother of children. As Mr. Morehouse approached 
the house, the night had closed in, and the gas was just lit in 
Ada's parlor. One window-shutter was half open, so that he 
had a full view of the room fiom where he stood in the sti'eet. 
There ho saw Ada, with her arms folded, walking up and down 
the parlor, looking excited and anxious, often stopping suddenly, 
and, in a listening attitude, looking towards the door; then she 
would resume hor walking, with the same anxious look. 

'' She is surely in trouble," said Mr. Morehouse, as he looked 
on, " and evidently she expects some one. Can it be that the 
poor child has heard Avhat I have come to tell her? Oh! yes; it 
must bo so." 

He rang the bell, and Ada herself, anticipating who it was, 
admitted him. 

"Darling father," said she, throwing her arms around his 
neck, and kissing him on both cheeks, "how kind of you to come 
so promptly when I sent for you." 

" Sent for me, dear Ada ! Why, I did not know you wanted 
to see me." 

"Oh! you have not seen Robert, then? Well, it makes no 
diflference, as you have come." 

" Does anything trouble you, my child?" 

"Yes, dear father, something does trouble mo; but what, I 
hardly know myself; but you shall hoar all, and then I want you 
to bless mo and approve of the resolution I have taken. So, 
darling father, sit down near mo on this sofa, and, with your 
arm around me, listen to me. Do you recollect, long, long 
ago, when I was but fifteen years old, I got into, what appeared 
to me, a great trouble at school. My teacher accused me wrong- 



374 PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 

fully, my school companions believed me guilty, and they all 
shunned me. I was miserable. I came home, and went to look 
for you. I found you seated on a sofa like this , in the library. 
I never said a word, but walked over and seated myself close to 
you. Then I laid my head right there on your heart, and wept 
and sobbed as if my heart would break." 

As Ada spoke, her eyes were streaming with tears, while yet 
they were wide open and beaming on her father's face. With a 
steady gaze, she went on: 

"Well, darling father, you held me in your arms until I had 
my cry out. Then you wiped my tears away, and talked to me 
of my trouble so sweetly, so kindly, that I began to feel happy 
again. You advised me, and told me what to do; and I left you, 
feeling more like a woman grown than the weak child I felt my- 
self when I sought you." 

" Yes, my darling child," said Mr. Morehouse; "I do recol- 
lect all that, and every marked passage of your life since your 
dear mother first laid you in the cradle, to this hour. 

"Well, darling father, I have felt all day more like acting 
little Ada Morehouse of that day, long ago, than I ever did m 
any day of my life since then. So, I sent for you to bear my 
weakness, and then strengthen and encourage me with your 
counsel and advice." 

As she stopped speaking she threw her arm around his neck, 
and, di-opping her head on his shoulder, gave way to a fit of un- 
restrained weeping. 

Her father gently supported her on his arm for a few minutes 
without speaking, while sympathetic tears that he could not sup- 
press stole down his face. 

" Ada, my child, do not give way too much, and tell me all 
you have heard that so troubles you." 

" Heard, father ? I have heard nothing." 

"Heard nothing?" repeated her father, in great surprise. 
"What, then, darling child, has made you so unhappy?" 

" Dear father, when I tell you, I fear you will not have pa- 
tience with me." 

" Do not fear that, my dear child; but tell me all." 

" Well, father, an undefined anxiety and fear has troubled me 
for some days, and Edmund's letter of to-day has terribly in- 
creased it. I tried, but I could not shake off this feeling; so I 
went to church to-day, and I prayed to God to guide me to do 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 375 

what was rigbt; and, all at once, resolution came to me to go to 
California and join my husband; so, darling- father," she continued, 
dropping her voice so low as to be hardly audible, while her 
lij)s trembled as she spoke, "I am going on the next steam- 
er that leaves after this one. Say I am I'ight, darling father, and 
that you will bless me, and tliat you will get darling mother's 
consent and blessing for me, too ! " 

Her father's arms pressed her close to him, as he said: 

"My sweet, darling child, depend on it, you will have the 
blessing and consent of both your parents to carry out your res- 
olution; and I promise you that neither your mother nor myself 
will say one word against your going, if, after discussion, you 
still desire to go." 

"Then," said Ada, with a look of triumph, "the question is 
settled, without a word of discussion, dear father; for go I surely 
will." 

This put the matter in a different position from anything Mr. 
Morehouse had anticipated. For a moment he thought to him- 
self — '' Would it not be a good idea to let Ada go to California 
in ignorance of all Mrs. Bucket had said of Edmund's way of 
life, writing by to-morrow's mail that she was coming ?" But such 
a thought was hardly entertained when it was rejected as un- 
worthy of the consideration of an honorable man. 

" Ada, dear, have j^ou any objection to tell me what was in 
your husband's letter, that has so disturbed you, or have you 
any objection that I should read it ? " 

"None whatever, dear father; and I will explain anything to 
you which you do not understand from the letter itself." 

Saying this, Ada handed him the letter, and waited patiently 
for him to read it through. As he finished, he turned to Ada, and 
said : 

" Tell me, dear, what is in that letter that troubles you ? 
Most wives would not only be satisfied with it, but be proud of 
it." 

"Well, dear father," said Ada, hesitatingly; "I suj^pose so; 
but it is not like his other letters —it looks to me restrained, 
which shows to me that he must be in trouble." 

" Did he tell you what family or whom he was living with in 
that cottage, Ada ? " 

" No," said Ada, with a half shudder; " he did not." 

" Who is this Madam Defray, Ada ?" 



376 PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 

" I never heard of her before," said Ada, again shuddering; 
" but," she continued, " I think Edmund was just out of spirits, 
and that horrid nightmare he had on the bluff made him write 
me an unsatisfactory letter; but his having that vision, or dream, 
was so strange. It was the same I had the very first night we 
heard of gold in California. It is foolish, I know, but I cannot 
get it out of ray head that it is a call for me to go to California 
and save Edmund from some terrible trouble or danger." As 
Ada said this, her lips quivered with emotion. Mr. Morehouse 
saw that the time was come when she must hear all Mrs. Bucket 
had told. So, assuming a calm, self-possessed manner and voice, 
he said : 

" Darling Ada, you were always a brave little woman, as child, 
girl and woman. I want you now to prepare yourself to hear 
what is disagreeable to hear, and mind there may be a possibil- 
ity that it is all untrue." 

As her father spoke, Ada turned deadly pale, sat upright and 
fixed her large eyes on his face, but said not a word. 

*' Did you hear," continued her father. '• that Mrs. Dr. Bucket 
has returned from California?" 

" No," said Ada, in a husky, choked voice. 

" Well," said Mr. Morehouse, now talking fast, as if he would 
save his child from further useless suspense, " she has come, 
and has been to see your mother and myself. She gives a terri- 
ble picture of the morals of the married men out there who are 
separated from their wives, and includes Edmund, by name, in 
those accusations." 

In a moment Ada sprang from her chair, her eyes lit up with 
a wild, flashing light her father had never seen there before. As 
she stood erect before him, she folded her arms across her breast, 
and said : 

" Father, you say Mrs. Bucket came to see you, and distinctly 
charged my husband, Edmund Allen, with leading a shameless, 
immoral life in San Francisco ? " 

" That, my child, was the substance of what she said, though 
in a different way." 

" And you and mother believed her, father; did you?" said 
Ada, with emphasis on every word, as she slowly spoke them. 

" I cannot say I fully did, though I will do Mrs. Bucket the 
justice to say that I think she herself believed what she told us." 

" Father, dear father," said Ada, in the same measured tone; 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 377 

" the charge is utterly and wickedly false ; I know it is false ; 
my heart within me tells me it is false ; Edmund seems to speak 
to me this moment, and says it is false ; but, false or true, the 
charge being made has altered my plan of leaving for California." 

" You will not go then, my child, until you hear from San 
Francisco ?" 

" "Will not go, father, you say? "Will not go!" Ada repeated 
again, still in the same voice and manner, and yet standing in 
front of her father with her arms folded. " Will not go, father! 
The steamer that leaves New York the day after to-morrow will 
bear Ada Allen and her two children on board for San Fran- 
cisco!" 

" So soon! my child," said her father. 

" Yes, father; not one day, not one hour, that I can help, will 
my husband rest under a charge against liis honor and character, 
and that threatens disgrace to his children. No; if I hesitate 
for a moment I would ho juiit no wife al all. Now, I understand 
plainly that I was forewarned, for I see far away in California 
my husband in danger, and my children too, far more so than 
when I saw them in my dream on the broken ice. No, father, a 
few minutes ago I was nothing but a weeping child in trouble, 
leaning on your breast for suj)porfc and consolation; now all that 
is past; what I have just heard has brought me to myself; from 
this moment I am done with tears; none shall dim my eyes until 
I meet Edmund; then I will weep in my great joy, or — or — I will 
just die! I am no weak, shrinking child, palmed off on the 
world for a woman worthy of the exalted position of wife and 
mother. No, father, your honorable blood runs in my veins; 
your teaching is here in my heart; I am the wife of a man whoso 
honor and truth I cannot doubt, whatever others may do. I know 
every aspiration, every impulse of his heart. They were all of 
the highest and noblest character, founded on deep i-eligious 
convictions. Let no one dare to tell me that God will not guard 
the steps of such a man in the worst of temptations! No, the 
charges are false, and I will fly to my husband, and show to all 
my faith in his truth, and, to him, the love and devotion I owe 
him as a true and faithful wife. Father, dear father," Ada con- 
tinued, while her voice sank lower and trembled with emotion; 
" if there were anything wi'ong out there, can I say that I have 
been wholly without blame ? Did I act the part I should have 
done, as a wife worthy of a good and true husband, when I de- 



378 PIONEER TIMES IN CALTFOENIA. 

clined going with him to California, or to him, when he sent for 
me ?" 

" My darling child," said Mr. Morehouse, while a shadow of 
deep pain passed over his fine face; " it was I who was to blame 
for that. Forgive me, darling Ada; it was, perhajjs, the oiily 
selfish act of my life toward you; bat, oh, Ada, you do not 
know how hard it was for me to part with you for such a far off 
place!" 

Ada leaned forward, and, throwing her arms around her 
father's neck, ^passionately kissed him; then, in almost a whisper, 
close to his ear, she said: 

" You must not blame yourself for loving your Ada too 
much." 

" Nor you, my sweet child, for loving your parents too well," 
responded her father. 

" Promise me, dear father, that you will try to bear up against 
this sudden parting, and get darling mother to do so too. Let 
us look forward with cheerful hearts, and hope for the best. 
Oh," continued Ada, laying her hand on her heart, " something 
here tells me, assures me, that I shall find a true husband and a 
happy home in San Francisco." 

" God grant it, my darling child. Consider all settled now 
as you wish it. I will go at once and bring your dear mother to 
you; I have already her consent to anything that you might pro- 
pose." 

Then, rising from his seat, he took Ada's hand, and, pausing 
for a moment as if struggling to command his voice, he said, in 
a tone of deep feeling: 

" God bless you, my child! I am prouder of you this moment 
than I ever was in my life, and I wish to assure you that I will 
enjoy thinking of you out there in California, fulfilling the noble 
duties of your position, a thousand times more than I could if 
you were here near me, shrinking from them." 

The only answer Ada made was to embrace him, and, while 
gently wiping away the tears that stole down his cheeks, she 
kissed him, and whispered: 

" No tears now, dear father; we have work to do, you know." 

When Mr. Morehouse reached home, he found his wife anx- 
iously Av aiting for him, and miserable enough. He soon ex- 
plained everything to her, and she found great relief in knowing 
the worst and in being called on for help, and none could do it 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 379 

better. She hastily prepared herself, and returned with her 
husband to Ada. The mother and daughter, when they met, 
had along, long embrace; but no word was spoken, except that 
Ada whispered. " Bless me, dear mother; but do not give way, 
or I am lost." 

Mrs. Morehouse, with a great effort, overcame her feelings, 
and said with solemnity: "God bless you, my darling child." 
Then, assuming a cheerful tone, she continued: "I will sleep 
with you to-night, darling, so as to be ready to go to work on 
your preparations very early in the morning." 

" That will be nice, dear mother," said Ada in the most cheer- 
ful voice, as she again kissed her. 

It was getting late, and it was agreed that Mr. Morehouse 
should go home, and, before coming in the morning, he should 
call on Alfred and Alice Roman, and bring them with him to 
Ada's. But, on leaving the house, Mi\ Morehouse turned his 
steps toward the Romans'. He preferred to go and see them 
then, though so late, as he could not rest for hours yet, if he 
went home, he was so feverish from all he had gone through 
that afternoon. He found the Romans yet up, though on the 
point of retiring. 

They were at first alarmed at his call, and Alfred said: " Why, 
dear Mr. Morehouse, you look pale and out of sorts. What can 
be the matter ?" 

" Do not feel alarmed, my dear friend; I do feel a little out 
of sorts, but nothing more." 

" Let Alice get you some refreshment," said Alfred, yet look- 
ing very uneasy. 

" Do so, if you please; it will do mo good, I believe. I have 
some business of a serious character to talk of with you, but, as I 
am tired, I believe I will accept your offer." 

In a very few minutes Alice had refreshments on the table, 
and Mr. Morehouse ate with a good appetite, and heliied him- 
self to wine a second time. As he turned from the table, he said: 
"Thank you, my dear Mrs. Roman. That has done me good, 
and I believe I could not have told you what I have to tell, but 
for the strength it has given me." 

The husband and wife looked at each other with an expression 
of great anxiety, but waited for their visitor's pleasure, without 
speaking. 

Mr. Morehouse now proceeded by relating Mrs. Bucket's call 



380 PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 

and detailing minutely all she had told him; then of his visit to 
Ada, and of her resolution to go to California without one day's 
unnecessary delay. It can be imagined how Alfred and Alice 
felt. 

Alfred said, while circumstances and the woman's testimony 
gave color to the charge, " Yet," said he, " I will stake my life 
on the proposition that it is false." 

As to Alice, whose attachment to her brother amounted to al- 
most worship, she had no patience with the charge, or with those 
who made it. She wept bitterly, saying over and over: " Poor, 
dear, darling Ada, what can I do for you? Noble, generous, 
confiding angel! As brave as you are true to your husband." 

Then she would exclaim: " Oh, Edmund, you won an angel 
for a wife, and may God grant that my firm belief will be justi- 
fied, that you are worthy of her." Then they talked and dis- 
cussed the matter until the night was far spent. Then Alfred 
urged Mr. Morehouse to accept a bed from them, as it was so 
late. Mr. Morehouse assented, and, as he did so, expressed him- 
self as much easier in mind since their evening's discussion and 
exchange of views. This was an anxious, restless night for them 
all, and, as for Alice, she never closed her eyes. After breakfast 
Mr. Morehouse went home, while Alfred and Alice went directly 
to Ada's. On the way, Alfred often said: " Now, dear wife, 
recollect that for poor Ada's sake you must overcome your sad 
feelings, and not give way." 

" I will try, my dear husband; oh, I will try hard, for Mr. 
Morehouse told me of Ada's brave resolution, ' never to shed a 
tear until she shed ones of joy on meeting Edmund all true and 
good as he left her,' so I must not be the cause of her breaking 
her noble resolution." 

But, as they drew near the house, Alice became terribly ex- 
cited and nervous, induced by loss of rest, as well as by her 
feelings of deep sympathy for her darling Ada, as she always 
called her. This sympathy was but natural, for Ada and Alice 
were devotedly attached sisters. They were much the same 
character of women. They were both of a high order of intel- 
lect. They were alike unselfish, generous and brave, charming 
in person and delightful in manners and deportment. They re- 
garded each other with unbounded admiration, and their love 
had become almost romantic in the fervor of its character. 

Mrs. Morehouse and Ada had risen early this eventful morn- 



PIONEER TIMES IN CVLIFORNIA. 381 

iug, and after a hurried breakfast commenced the work of pre- 
paring for Ada's journey. Trunks were hauled out, and clothes 
scattered, as they prepared them for packing, in confusion all 
over the floor. Ada's brother Robert, the nurse and a hired 
man were all at work ; so busy that they seemed scarce to have 
time to ask a question. Mrs. Morehouse was the moving spirit 
of the whole troujie, and gave directions to all, in a cheerful 
voice, and had a pleasant word and a smile for every one; so that 
no one, to see and hear her, could for a moment imagine that 
her heart was sick and sad within her. But Mrs. Morehouse's 
was truly a fine character. She now appreciated the mistake she 
made in preventing Ada from accomjDanying her husband to Cal- 
ifornia, and was determined to do all she could to lessen the sor- 
row she saw that mistake had brought. The door bell rang just 
as Ada and her mother had finished packing a trunk containing 
clothes for the children. 

"Oh, mother," exclaimed Ada, "that is Alice. How can I 
meet her?' 

'•'Courage, my daughter; courage," said Mrs. Morehouse; 
" recollect that you have work to do, as you said to me." 

" Oh! yes; you are right, darling mother; and thank you for re- 
minding me." 

In a moment more the loving sisters were in each other's arms, 
but forewarned, as they both had been, they triumphed over the 
rush of sympathetic thoughts that would otherwise have caused 
them to give way. Each longed to tell the other how unshaken 
their confidence was in Edmund's truth and honor, but neither 
could trust herself to sj^eak his name. Their eyes, however, 
as they met, said plainly what they dare not let their tongues re- 
peat in words. Mrs. Morehouse's timely call for assistance was 
a reminder to both, as it was in fact intended ; so, without a 
spoken word, Alice hastily threw off her things, and, placing her- 
self under Mrs. Morehouse's directions, was, like the others, 
an active worker in Ada's preparations for her long journey. At 
six o'clock that afternoon all was declared ready. About this 
time Mr. Morehouse appeared, informing them that he had 
bought tickets for the passage of Ada and the two children to 
San Francisco, and had secured a stateroom which they were to 
have all to themselves. He had seen the Captain, who promised 
to do all in his power to make Ada comfortable. He had also 
procured a letter to the Captain of the steamer on the Pacific 



382 tlONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 

side, which would insure her kind attention when she would 
reach that part of her trip. He had also procured a draft for a 
thousand dollars on San Francisco, and some letters to three or 
four prominent mercantile firms in that city. This he did to pro- 
vide against any possible contingency of her wanting either 
money or friends on her arrival there. 

When Mr. Morehouse took Ada aside and explained all this to 
her, she thanked and kissed him; but, with a confident smile, 
told him that his precaution about her reception in San Fran- 
cisco was all unnecessary; "for, dear father," she continued, "I 
shall find in San Francisco as true and loving a husband as ever 
woman met." 

" I cannot help believing so, also, my darling child; yet it is 
not right to run any risk in such a case as this. You need use 
neither money nor letters, if you find all as we hope you will. " 

The next morning the terrible parting scene came, but all bore 
up well, and even appeared cheerful. As they reached the 
steamer, there was only time for Mr. Morehouse and Alfred to 
conduct Ada and the children to their stateroom and hastily re- 
turn to the wharf. There thjy found poor Mrs. Morehouse 
seated in the carriage, with her head resting on Alice's shoulder, 
in a fit of hysterical weeping and sobbing, as she exclaimed: 
"My child! my child! oh, my sweet, darling child! I shall 
never see her again. She is gone, yes, gone forever!" 

Alice now acted the daughter's part, and did and said all she 
could think of to soothe and console; but Mrs. Morehouse re- 
sponded: " Oh. 3'ou are young, Alice, and will live to see her 
again, but at my age, how can I hope for such a joy ? Oh, Cali- 
fornia! California! why have you come to break the hearts and 
destroy the sweet, dear homes that were all so happy — oh yes, 
so hapj)y, until we heard of your gold ?" 

On the way home Mr. Morehouse joined with Alice in efforts 
to console the poor mother, but it was days before she recov- 
ered her composure, so as to be anything like her former self. 



CHAPTER XrV. 

SAN FRANCISCO — THE PRETTY LITTLE COTTAGE. 

Now, the steamer, with Ada Allen and her two children on 
board, dashes out to sea, and Ada's face and all her thoughts are 
turned to San Francisco. The care of the children, who were 
sea-sick for the first few days, gave her constant employment, and 
obliged her, in a measure, to forget her own great anxiety. The 
voyage was favorable in all respects, and Ada found herself all 
safe in San Francisco, on the night jon were first introduced to 
her, my young readers, when we left her and the children, as 
you will recollect, in a carriage, with Captain Greorge Casserly, 
just turning out of Washington street into Stockton, when little 
Alice says: " The man on the corner is choking, he coughs so 
hard;" and which coughing disappoints Captain Casserly, as it 
informs him that his message, intended to put Edmund on his 
guard, did not reach him; and this brings the Captain to the con- 
clusion that he will have to send Mrs. Bucket's over-dressad 
creature flying from the cottage, at which they are about to 
stop. The carriage now stops opposite a neat white cottage, with 
the pretty little Gothic gate in the front fence, just as described 
in the paper the Captain has, which Mrs. Bucket wrote for Mi's. 
Morehouse. As the carriage stopped, Ada thought her hearL 
stoj)ped too, or that she was, in fact, in some frightful dream. 
Little Alice jumped up and cried out: "Oh, Ma, here is Pa's 
house," and little Willard called out: " Where, Alice ? Oh, yes, 
I see." But Ada heard neither. She had let down the carria,;,e 
window, and, leaning forward, her eyes were fixed on Captaui 
Casserly, who had jumped from the carriage, and was now 
pulling the door-bell. The door opened, and a colored boy of, 
perhaps, twelve years of age, made his appearance. Though the 
Captain spoke intentionally in a very low tone, as he asked, 
" Is your master in, boy?" Ada heard the question as if it were 
spoken with a trumpet in her ear. 



384 PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFOENU. 

" No," said tlie boy; " he is at the theater." 

Ada gasped for breath, but held her listening position without 
the least motion, as the Captain asked the next question: 

" Is the lady in?" 

" No; she is with him at the theater," 

As Ada heard the answer, she covered her face with her hands, 
and dropped her head down so as to rest it on the carriage 
door. She murmured to herself, while making a desperate strug- 
gle to retain her self-control : 

" I told father I was no weak child; that I was a woman, 
worthy to be a wife and mother." 

Then, for an instant, her whole thoughts were on Ood, as, in 
her heart, she made an act of submission, and again murmured: 

" Thy will, not mine, be done." 

Strength, and almost life, seemed to come back to her; for 
now she raised her head quickly and spoke to Captain Casserly, 
who, for a minute or two, had stood by the carriage door, appa- 
rently perplexed as how to proceed. The tone of her voice was 
calm, but almost a whisper: 

" Well, Captain, there is nothing for it but to go in and 
wait." 

" Ah," said the Captain to himself , " she is of the right spunk; 
yes, she will go through all right." Then he answered Ada: 

" You are right, Mrs. Allen; there is nothing for it but to do 
as you say." 

As he said this, he threw open the carriage door, at the same 
time telling the driver to take down the two trunks and carry 
them into the cottage. He now helped Ada and the children to 
alight, and, observing that Ada was trembling and greatly agi- 
tated, he offered her his arm, and, in a kind, almost confidential 
tone of voice, said: " Now, Mrs. Allen, you must have courage, 
for the sake of the children, and then it may be that you will 
find everything all right yet." 

By this time the Captain had no idea that " everything was all 
right," but he had a plan in his head to deceive Ada. 
" Thank you, Captain," said Ada; "you are very kind." 

They now entered the cottage, and the children ran all over 
it, to the dismay of the colored boy, who stood gazing at the 
whole party now taking possession of the house, with his lips 
wide apart and his eyes all white, they were so wide open, but 
uttering not a word. After the trunks and all the traps were 



t>IONEER TIMES IN CALIFOUNU. SSS 

Comfortably stowed away, Captain Casserly drew Ada aside and 
said: "Now, Mrs. Allen, I will leave you; but I will remain 
within one hundred yards of this cottage until you have seen 
Mr. Allen; because," he continued, so as to put her at her ease; 
" Mr. Allen or you might want to see me — at least, there is a 
possibility of such a thing. So don't be uneasy; I will be close 
at hand." 

She made no reply but simply " Thank you," with emphasis, 
and the Captain was gone. 

Again the children proved a relief to Ada, as they demanded 
her attention, and so partly saved her from her own thoughts. 
After running into every corner of the house, little Willard dis- 
covered on the sideboard some bread and butter, and, without 
ceremony, he and little Alice helped themselves. After they had 
eaten all they wanted, little Willard threw himself on a sofa he 
found in the little back parlor, and fell fast asleep. Little Alice 
took her mother's large, warm shawl, and spread it over him; 
and when she had it fixed, the little nest looked so comfortable 
she herself slipped under the shawl, and was soon dreaming of 
ships, steamboats and police captains. Ada approached, and, 
though sad and anxious, she smiled when she looked at her dar- 
lings in their sweet sleep, and exclaimed: 

" Oh, how sweet! Could I but lie down by you, my angels, 
and sleep on, sleep on, forever." 

Then suddenly seeming to recollect herself, she continued: 

" Oh, no; what am I talking of? The charge is false; I know 
it is; it must be." 

Then she fixed the shawl more carefully about the children, 
and, walking towards a door that opened into a bed-room ofl' the 
back parlor, she looked curiously in. The room was almost ele- 
gantly furnished. The carpet was a handsome Brussels. The 
bureau and wash-stand had marble tops; the mirror was a large, 
French plate one; the bedstead was of rose-wood; there were 
two large rocking-chairs, in red plush. It was, in fact, one of 
the snuggest and most elegant little bed-rooms that could be 
imagined. The colored boy had followed Ada as she went to- 
ward the room, with a suspicious sort of a look. She turned to 
him and said, in a low, hesitating voice: 

" Who occupies this room ?" 

" My master," said the boy, bluntly. 

" And who else ?" said Ada, in a more excited tone. 
25 



386 PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 

" My mistress," again resj)onded the lialf-angry boy. 

Ada grew deadly pale, and, turning away, went into the front 
parlor. She threw herself into a rocking-chair near the fire 
that burned cheerfully in that room; she clasped her hands 
across her breast, while she let her head rest sideways on the 
chair. In this position her face was turned towards the parlor 
door that opened into the hall. Her eyes were fixed on this open 
doorway with an intensity of expression not to be described. 
Just then her attentive ear detects the sound of a footstej); it is 
yet on the street, but the blood rushes quickly back on her heart; 
she hears it now at the gateway; it is Ids, every nerve of her 
system proclaiming it to her; she hears the pass-key in the door- 
lock; her eyes grow dim, but again she struggles and prays to 
God for strength; it comes; she rises to her feet, but finds she 
cannot move from the spot, and there she remains like a statue, 
with her eyes staring at the open doorway. 



CHAPTER XV. 



FEOM THE THEATER — THE JOYEUL MEETING. 

When Captain Casserly left Ada, liis plan about the matter was 
to watch for Edmund's return with the lady from the theater, 
and tell them of the reception they were likely to meet with, 
and in this way " help Allen out of the scrape," as he said. The 
night was cold and raw, and the Captain, moreover, felt a little 
extra liberal, as he had Ada's three twenties in his pocket, so he 
invited the driver of the carriage to go with him to a saloon near 
at hand, in Washington street, and have a hot whisky punch. 
The driver, of course, accepted, and, fastening his horses near 
the corner of the street, accompanied the Captain, declaring 
that it was "just in his hand, for he was so very cold." While 
they were seated in the saloon enjoj'ing themselves, time passed 
quickly, so that the Captain was surprised when he looked at 
his watch to find how late it was. 

" Why," he exclaimed, " the theater is out; I must be off. 
You stay at the corner here until I see you again. " 

He walked rapidly in the direction of the cottage. As he 
drew near, he saw a gentleman and lady ahead of him. " 

" Ah," said he, " I am Justin time." And, quickening hispace, 
he overtook them as they were passing through the little cottage 
gate. The gentleman had just taken out the night pass-key 
from his pocket, and was reaching out to put it in the lock, when 
he felt the Captain's hand on his shoulder, who said, as he 
pressed his hand hard : 

" Mr. Allen, before you go in let me speak to you." 

The escort of the lady turned quickly round in astonishment, 
saying, in broken English: 

" /no Mr. Allaine, I Monsieur Bellemere." 

"Why, Bellemere! is this yon, and //t/'.s Madam Bellemere 
with you! and you have been to the theater! and you live here 
with Mr. Allen!" said Captain Casserly, iu a quick, excited tone, 



SSS PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 

as he took in the whole position of matters for the first time. 

" I see it, I see it all now." 

" Certain ! Certain /" vociferated the little Frenchman; 
" Mr. Allaine one very good man ; one very generous man ; me 
and Madam take care of Mr. Allaine, " 

Just as the Captain was about to ask another question, they 
were all startled by a loud, excited cry in the cottage. Captain 
Casserly snatched the night key from the hand of the French- 
man, and all three made a rush for the door. 

As Ada, as we have described, stood erect in the little front 
parlor of the cottage, iinable to move or speak, the key she heard 
in the front door did its work, and Edmund, as she knew it was, 
entered. But he stopped in the hall to take off his overcoat and 
change his boots. The colored boy ran towards him in excite- 
ment, but before he had time to speak, Edmund asked: 

"Is the Madam in?" 

He asked this question while he was trying to get off a tight 
boot. The boy's answer was: 

" There is a lady in the parlor, sir." 

Edmund did not notice that the boy said a lady; he thought he 
said Ilia lady, and was in too bad spirits, and in too much pain 
with his boot to notice the boy's excited manner; so he con- 
tinued : 

" Here, boy, put your foot on the toe of this boot until I pull 
it off. Oh, is that the best you can do ? Just get out my way; 
I will manage it myself." 

Then, as Edmund worked on with the boots, he sj)oke aloud: 

" Oh, Madam Bellemere, pity me. I have not heard a word 
by this steamer from my darling* wife. I have been down there 
at the postoffice standing for over three hours, in the cold and 
mud, waiting for my turn, expecting to be repaid by a letter 
from my beloved wife, but not a line did I get; and what is 
strange, I did not hear either from my partnei's. All I got was 
some invoices of goods and a line from my brother-in-law's clerk. 
What I fear is, that my precious wife is sick and could not write, 
and that all the others are afraid to write and tell me of it. 
Yes, she must be sick, if the letters are not lost ; that is my only 
hope, that the letters are lost. There is one thing I am deter- 
mined on; this separation must end. I will not, I cannot endure 
it any longer. I will go home by the next steamer. Madam, 
where is Monsieur, your husband ? I thought you went to the 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 389 

theater with him to-night ? I will not wear these tight boots any 
more." 

Then, as he hung up his hat, he bent his head forward as if in 
deep thought, and continued to speak, in a lower voice, as if 
for himself alone : 

" My sweet, darling Ada! If you could see my heart to-night, 
and see how sorry and lonesome it is, you would fly to me if you 
had to come over that horrid field of floating ice we both saw in 
our dreams." 

As he pronounced the last word, he was inside the parlor 
door, and, raising his head, he found himself face to face with 
Ada. Her eyes were on his with a piercing, searching light, but 
every lineament of his features, every expression of his counte- 
nance, told only of truth, purity and honor, dispelling every lin- 
gering shadow of doubb and flooding her heart with love and de- 
votion. The spell was broken, and, with a loud cry of joy, they 
flew into each other's arms. 

The outside door is thrown open, and Captain Casserly, Mon- 
sieur and Madam Bellemere stand looking on, as Edmund takes 
the now fainting form of his wife to the sofa, where he sits back, 
supporting her in his arms. Captain Casserly remained per- 
fectly composed; he was evidently satisfied with the turn mat- 
ters bad taken. Madam Bellemere seemed bewildered by the 
whole scene, until the Captain brought her to herself by telling 
her what to do for Ada. Then she was active and all attention. 

Color and life soon began to appear in Ada, and the Captain, 
observing it, remarked: "A faint from joy is always short." 
Then, beckoning to the Bellemeres, he retired with them to the 
little dining room back of the parlor, explaining to them that 
the lady whose presence so astonished them was Mr. Allen's 
wife, just arrived from New York, and that it was just as well 
to leave her alone with her husband until she had completely 
recovered. The Bellemeres were delighted at the discovery that 
the "beautiful lady," an they called her, was their friend's 
wife, and expressed their joy in all sorts of extravagant ways. 

Ada opened her eyes, and, seeing that she was supported in 
Edmund's arms and that they were alone, she reached out and 
drew down his head until her lips touched his ear, and whis- 
pered: "All the horrors, worse, far worse, than the ice-fields 
we saw in our dream, are passed forever, and I am safe in your 
arms, darling. Oh! speak to me, Edmund, and tell me that 



390 PIONEEB TIMES IX CALIFORNIA. 

this is no cruel dream to deceive me — that it is all reality; for 
oh, it seems too happy, too heavenly, to be all true!" 

" It is all true— it is all reality, my darling, angel wife," said 
Edmund, as he clasped her fondly and kissed her; " and we 
must only thank the Almighty Giver of all good for this happi- 
ness. To-morrow you will explain all to me. I will not ask you 
a question to-night; hut— but— " and his voice trembled and he 
seemed for a moment to fear to speak. 

Ada started and gazed anxiously in his face, and exclaimed: 
"But what, darling? Speak, love; speak!" 

" The children!" was all he said. 

"Oh, you poor, dear darling," she said, throwing her arms 
around his neck and kissing his cheek. "They are both safe 
asleep on the sofa in the back parlor. Come and see them ." 

In an instant he was kneeling by the sofa, lost to all around 
him, kissing the darling children over and over, while they 
slept on, all unconscious of his passionate caresses. He kissed 
their foreheads, their cheeks, their cherry lips; he raised their 
little hands and well remembered little feet, and pressed them 
to his lips, while tears stole down his cheeks. 

Then Ada was there, leaning on his shoulder, enjoying the 
happy sight, smiling through her joyous tears, the first she had 
shed since she had told her father that " she would not shed 
another tear until she shed tears of joy by Edmund's side." 

Then mother and father are both on their knees, leaning over 
the precious gifts before them, with bowed down heads and 
hearts overflowing with gratitude. Their whole thoughts are of 
God and His goodness. 

As Edmund arose he recollected the Bellemeres and Captain 
Casserly. Calling them, he formally introduced Ada to Mon- 
sieur and Madam Bellemere, saying, in a complimentary way : 

" I assure you, my dear wife, you are under great obliga- 
tions to Madam. She has made me so much more comfortable 
since she took charge of my cottage than I was before." 

Ada received the little couple in the most charming man- 
ner, and thanked them for all their kind care of her dear 
husband. 

" Oh," said the Madame, "your husband one very kind gen- 
tleman to us. He help us; he do much for us. Oh, yes, he 
gave us your own nice room, and take one not so good himself. 
We very glad you here to take your own room." 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 391 

As she said this, the little Madam pointed to the room Ada 
had asked the colored boy about, receiving an answer that so 
frightened her. 

Captain Casserly now arose to take his leave, and congratulated 
both Ada and Edmund in the warmest manner. Ada gave him 
her hand, and thanked him cordially for his kind attention to 
her, in which Edmund joined her most heartily. 

As Captain Casserly regained the street, he stopped for a mo- 
ment, turned round, and, looking at the cottage, said, half 
aloud: 

" Well, if there is a happier house on this side of the Rocky 
Mountains than that cottage is to-night, I would like to see it; 
for it would be a plant right straight from Heaven." 

Then, walking on slowly, he continued to talk to himself, say- 
ing: 

" Well, old Mother Bucket's mischief -making did not turn out 
so bad after all. Her ' over-dressed creature ' turns out to be 
no other than poor little Madam Bellemere, who is with her hus- 
band teaching dancing in this good city, and sings in one of the 
churches on Sundays for a living." 

Then, after a pause in thought, the Captain continued: 

"Those Jersey fellows always boast of the beauty of their 
girls, and make fun of us New Yorkers about our girls; but they 
don't palm Mrs. Allen off on me for an average. No, no; to 
make a fair average she should have two of the ugliest girls in 
all New Jersey put with her, and then she would be a little over 
the average. Well, I can't help admiring beauty. It always 
bothers me when I come in sight of it. • I suppose it is my con- 
founded Irish blood that is the cause of it. I was once in love 
•with an angel in the Sixth ward, in New York. I was just nine- 
teen, and the girl was fifteen. She was as handsome as a pic- 
ture, and that was the reason Eugene and my poor mother 
packed me off to California, under the care of John McGlynn. 
Then I dreamed and built castles in the air, as I lay on the deck 
of the South Carolina, on the passage around Cape Horn. 
Yes; I was to return home to New York with bags and bags 
of gold, and was to purchase the Astor House for a private resi- 
dence, and have a wife just like this Mrs. Allen, but here I am 
in the second year of my California life, a police captain, under 
Chief Malachi Fallon. Well, I may strike it yet, who knows ? 
Three twenties is not bo bad for an evening's work, after all." 



392 PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 

Poor George ! He felt sad at the outlook for himself ; but, 
as usual, was soon over it. He now stopped at the saloon in 
Washington street, took some more refreshments with the car- 
riage driver, then he jumped in the carriage and ordered himself 
driven to his lodging house. There he dismissed the driver, 
saying : " Tell Mallot to send the bill for the carriage to Allen, 
Wheeler & Co. , to-morrow, and it will be paid." 



CHAPTER XVI. 



WAITING FOR LETTERS — ^MRS. BUCKET AGAIN. 

On the arrival in New York of the return steamer from Cali- 
fornia, after Ada's arrival in San Francisco, there was a happy 
scene in Newark, worthy of notice. The day the steamer was ex- 
pected Edmund's father, mother and Alice were all at Mr. More- 
house's, and were to stay there until Alfred should bring them 
the California letters. About noon they were all seated around 
a lunch table, urging each other to eat, but no one making it a 
success, so nervously anxious were they all. From where they 
sat, they had a view of the walk from the front gate to the house. 
Suddenly they start, for the gate spring is heard to close with a 
bang. All eyes are on the walk ; and there, sure enough, comes 
Alfred, with a hurried, excited step. Alice alone seems able 
to move. She darted to the window, threw up the sash, but her 
voice failed her. Alfred, however, saw her, and understood her ; 
so, taking off his hat, he waved it over his head, and exclaimed : 

" All is right ; all is glorious !" 

The closing of the scene can be imagined, but not described. 
After Mr. Morehouse regained composure, he exclaimed, while 
walking up and down the parlor in a joyous, excited way : 

" I thought I was not mistaken in that boy of yours, CajDtain 
Allen. I have seldom been mistaken in character in my life. 
I thought I understood him perfectly the day he asked me for 
Ada's hand. I said to myself that day : ' Yes, you are a spar 
taken from the old mast ; you will do ; and so it proves, Captain 
Allen. Yes, so it proves, thank God.' '' 

After a little struggle with his feelings, the Captain com- 
manded his voice enough to say : 

" I thank God, too, my friend, that you were not mistaken ; 
but how can we admire that daughter of yours enough ? She 
has proved herself a j)i'iceless treasure; for cool, unfaltering 



394 PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 

courage, and faithful love, she cannot be surpassed on earth, 
sir. That dear girl is fit to command a ship in a storm. Yes, 
sir ; I would trust her with the best ship that ever left port in a 
typhoon, off Cape of Good Hope, and my life for it, she would 
take her through in safet3\" 

Mr. Morehouse now laughed heartily at the Captain's enthus- 
iasm, while he sljdy wiped away tears of gratitude and joy he did 
not Avant any one to see. Ada's letter to Alice was full and minute, 
and Alfred read it aloud, being the only one who could com- 
mand his voice on this occasion. The next day Mr. Morehouse 
handed a check to his wife of a thousand dollars, telling her to 
make as many poor people as jpossible happy with it; " for," said 
he, " we must do as we have been done by." 

Then Captain Allen and Alfred followed this good man's ex- 
ample; and gave Alice a thousand more for the same object ; so 
the good news that steamer brought from California made many 
hearts happy." 

The little bright-eyed " Calif ornia grass widow," who was such 
an unbeliever in Mrs. Bucket's onslaught on the married men of 
San Francisco, heard the good news that came to the Morehouses 
with great satisfaction. She oontrived to throw herself in Mrs. 
Bucket's way, and, going up to her in an animated and friendly 
way, took her hand and exclaimed: "My dear Mrs. Bucket, I 
am so glad to have met you ; for I know you will be so delighted 
to hear that all that scandal about Edmund Allen was utterly 
false. It turns out that the ' over-dressed creature ' you de- 
scribed so exactly, and were so intimately acquainted with, was 
no other than a highly respectable French lady, of the name of 
Bellemere. I believe she has a title, but I don't recollect it 
now ; who, with her husband, yes, with her husband, Mrs. Dr. 
Bucket, was living with Mr. Allen in his cottage, until such time 
as his wife could go to California." 

" Madam," said Mrs. Bucket, with quiet dignity, but looking 
much disconcerted, " I would have you to understand that I am 
not acquainted with any of the ' over-dressed creatures ' that in- 
fest San Francisco." She was going to say something more, 
when the little widow ran on : 

" Oh, I don't mean to say, exactly, that you said you were ac- 
quainted personally, you know, but the lady whom you used to 
stand out in the wind and rain to watch, after dark, j^ou 
know. That lady, I say, proves to be a French lady of rank, 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFOKNIA. 395 

and under the protection of the French Consul at San Fran- 
cisco. Now, don't look so angry at me, for I am your friend, 
and have sought this interview just to tell you that my husband 
writes me that it is rumored in San Francisco that the Consul, 
Monsieur Dillon, Mr. Allen, and the husband of this French 
lad}', are only waiting for 3' our return to California to commence 
a suit for slander against your good husband, the poor Doctor ; for 
the law, they say, makes him responsible for his wife's acts, and 
I wanted to suggest to you that you had better see Mr. More- 
house before yovi leave, and get him to beg you off." 

Poor Mrs. Bucket turned very i)ale, but said not a word. 
The little widow saw she had her revenge, but, notwithstanding 
this, she had no mercy ; so she continued, by saying in a low, half 
confidential tone : 

' ' Did the steamer bring you any news of the Doctor's sprained 
knee ? Had you not better hurry home ? He may get out, you 
know." 

Without waiting for an answer, the little widow was out of 
sight. It is quite certain that Mrs. Bucket called the next day 
on Mr. Morehouse to beg for mercy, and it may be owing to 
what he said to her that Mrs. Dr. Bucket was never again heard 
to allude to the immorality of married men in San Francisco ; 
though she never let an opportunity pass of giving " California 
grass widows " a cut. When she returned to San Francisco, 
Captain Casserly found a decided change in her propensities. 
All her detective talents were now directed to catching Chinese 
chicken thieves. 



CHAPTER XVn. 

A HOUSEKEEPER'S DIFFICULTIES— CONCLTTSION. 

A word more and our little history concludes. Edmund and 
Ada were now the happiest of the happy. A few days after 
Ada's arrival they gave a little entertainment to Edmund's 
friends. Ada was delighted with this specimen of San Francisco 
society, and wrote of it enthusiastically to her mother and Alice. 
Of course Ada had difficulties to encounter in her housekeeping, 
but Ada and Edmund laughed over these sometimes ludicrous 
troubles, and, from the way they both took them, you might 
imagine they enjoyed what would have put a lady housekeeping 
in the Eastern States into tears. Their great trouble was the 
almost impossibility of getting, or keeping for any length of 
time, hired girls. A great many good Irish and German girls 
came to California in those days to work out in families, hotels 
and boarding-houses, but they nearly all got married in a very 
short time after their arrival. Ada was often deserted by her 
hired girl with half a day's notice; that she wanted to get mar- 
ried the next day. 

" Mary,'" she would say, " why did you not let me know this 
sooner ?" 

" I did not know it myself, ma'am, until just before dinner; it 
was only then he asked me." 

" Try and get him to put it off until next Sunday; that will be 
such a nice, convenient day to get married, you know, Mary," 
Ada said, in a half -confidential, coaxing way. 

" I did, ma'am, but he said he ' can't wait.' " 

When Edmund came home, Ada told him of this. 

" Well, my dear," said he, " there is no help for it; it is the 
old story; so I will go to the hotels to-morrow, just after the 
steamer gets in, and I will find some girl just arrived." 

" Yes, dear,- do so, and I will not engage her unless she agrees 
to remain unmarried for three months, at least." 



tlONEER TIMES IN CALIFOENIA. 397 

" That is an excellent idea, my dear wife; let us try that 
plan." 

The girl was found, and Ada made her bargain. Seventy-five 
dollars a month, and to remain unmarried three months. The 
girl worked on nicely until Sunday afternoon, when she asked 
Ada's permission to go and see a girl who had come out with 
her from the East, and who was living with a family in Saint 
Ann's Valley. Of course Ada did not refuse. The girl went, 
but never came back. The next day Edmund went to hunt for 
her, and found that she had been married the same Sunday 
evening she left them. On his return, Ada met him with: 

" Did you find her, dear?" 

" Yes, dear, and it is another case of * can't wait.' The hus- 
band says he will pay you any reasonable amount of damages. " 

So Ada's bargain ended, and they had a hearty laugh over the 
failure of her plan. It was well for Ada that her mother had 
made her a neat and elegant housekeeper, for she never found 
herself totally dependent on servants in any respect whatever. 
Under her directions, the roughest creature, in an emergency, 
could be made use of for a servant, and everything move smoothly 
and comfortably. 

Mr. and Mrs. Morehouse had promised Ada a visit during t!.3 
coming Summer, and Alfred had consented that Alice should 
accompany them. Business being flourishing, Edmund built a 
charming, commodious little house, amply large enough to ac- 
commodate their expected friends, and furnished it, with the 
help of Ada's exquisite taste. The location was high, and com- 
manded a magnificent view of the bay and city. There was on 
three sides of the cottage a wide porch or piazza, which added 
much to the beauty of the building, as well as to the pleasure 
of the inmates, particularly of the children, who were never 
tired of racing en it. 

When they took possession of this beautiful residence, Ada 
had a house-warming party. She gave out sixty invitations, 
and nearly all who were invited came. It was enjoyed as a de- 
lightful evening by all. There were twenty-five ladies of intelli- 
gence and education in the company, twenty of whom were 
married, and ail were young and mostly very handsome. The 
supper was sumptuous; the music was excellent, and dancing 
was kept up till a late hour. The first dance of the evening was 



398 PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 

opened by the Captain of the steamer in which Mrs. Allen had 
come to San Francisco leading that lady out for his partner. I 
was so fortunate as to have had an invitation to that party. 

Two short years before, and scarce two of the company knew 
each other, or ever imagined they would see, or care to see, the 
Pacific coast. Now all were as familiar as if they had been play- 
mates in childhood, and all felt that they were Californians in 
heart and soul. Less than two years before, every one in that 
company had, in tears and sadness, left home, friends and all 
the dear surroundings of youth, to face dangers and privations, 
the extent of which they knew not of. Now it appeared as if, 
here in Ada's beautiful parlors, the loved scenes of the past had, 
as if by the stroke of a fairy's wand, come back to them, and 
that here in this land of gold they were on the eve of realizing 
the wildest dreams of fortune that had lured them from their far- 
off, early homes. So, with hearts relieved from every doubt or 
apprehension as to the future, they gave way to-night to gaiety 
sparkling with wit, and to unreserved merriment and joyous 
laughter, that rings yet in my ears. The recollection of that 
scene is as when sometimes a glorious sunbeam will burst on the 
path of youth or early manhood, so warm, bright and genial that 
it seems to reach on, on, through all after life; never wholly ob- 
scured by the darkest shadows that fortune may fling in your 
way. No; it seems somehow to come to your mind, when 
clouds are the darkest, and whispers of a home, a haven, beyond 
them all, where it will again burst out, amid glories unspeak- 
able. 

The next day after this party, Ada walked with Edmund out 
on the porch, as he was leaving for his place of business, and, 
kissing him good-by, she remained to enjoy the view before her. 
The day was beautiful; the immense number of ships, decorated 
with the flags of all nations, at anchor in the bay, gave it a pecu- 
liarly picturesque appearance. The islands in the bay, the Con- 
tra Costa mountains, with the dark top of Mount Diablo in the 
distance, all came in to heighten the beauty of the scene and 
charm the beholder. As Ada looked, her bosom swelled with 
admiration and enthusiasm, and she could not help exclaiming : 

" Oh, California! California! I love you with all my heart. 
You shall always be my home — ^yes, and my last resting place. 
I will talk for you; I will work for you. Your friends shall be 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 399 

my friends. I love you, not for your gold, but for your majes- 
tic rivers, your magnificent bays, your grand old mountains and 
for your fertile, beautiful valleys, that will yet be covered with 
hapjDy homes and teeming with population. Then will the whole 
Union be proud of you as a sister State — yes, proud of you for 
the intelligence, enterprise, skill and high moral bearing of your 
children; a thousand times more than for all you could ever 
bring them of riches and GOLD." 



MINNIE WAGNER; 

OR, 

THE FORGED NOTE. 



CHAPTER I. 



A HAPPY BREAKFAST — AEEIVAL IN CALIFORNIA. 

My readers will recollect that in our story of Ada Allen, we 
left our little heroine, Minnie Wagner, tired and weary from the 
great day's battle she had fought through so successfully and 
well, fast asleep in her little bed, a beautiful picture as she lay, 
that filled the mother's heart with maternal joy, that was almost 
pride. Yet, why is it, that when Minnie murmurs in her sleep : 
"Gold! Walter, gold! Where is it?"' the mother starts, 
turns pale, trembles, and now kneels and prays to God, with 
flowing tears, to guard her child? The mother could not an- 
swer this question, clearly, herself, for it is an undefined feeling 
of terror ; or a sort of presentiment, it may be, of coming danger 
to her darling, that Minnie's dreaming words have caused to 
flash to her heart. It is that one so young, so innocent, so beau- 
tiful and childlike, should, in her dreams, be in that pursuit, in 
which, her mother knows, the strongest men, all the world over, 
have often and often become corrupt and vicious, and in which 
even innocence and purity have sometimes sunk to the lowest 
depths of degradation. Yes, the mother trembles that Minnie 
so covets, even in dreams, the possession of that which seldom 
or ever elevates or prompts us to good and noble actions, and 

which it is so hard for us to use in a manner pleasing to God. 
26 



^ 



402 PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 

But, was it the power, grandeur and self-exaltation that gold is 
supposed to bring, that caused Minnie to so covet its posession ? 
No, no; far from it ; all her castles built for the future have noth- 
ing of that sort about them. Her favorite one was her parents' 
cottage, in which she was born ; refitted, beautified and hand- 
somely furnished, with a new x^iauo and everything to suit ; a 
well selected library, easy chairs for her darling father and moth- 
er to sit in, while they read or she reads to them, and who were to 
struggle no more at hard work ; a well stocked hardware store 
for Walter, with a nice, gentle, sweet wife for him, who should 
be ever so fond of her. As to the part of the castle that related 
to herself, it was all undefined in its shape and make-up. 

It is true that as she glanced her mind toward it, she caught 
glimpses of many little rosy walks and nooks, with now and then 
a little, beauteous turret jDeejoing out in the mist}^ distance, and 
somehow in this part of her day-dream, her brother's old school- 
mate, and now his fast friend, James De Forest, was always sure 
to make his appearance. One time he was bringing a rare flower 
for her garden; then she saw him bringing a new, interesting 
book for her father and mother to enjoy; then he was near her 
while she tried her new piano; then he was helping her to water 
her flowers. Oh, yes; perhaps it is a scene like this that has 
now stolen into her dream; for, as her mother looks again, a 
charming blush, with the sweetest smile, spreads over her face. 

The mother's alarmed heart again grows calm, and, leaving 
the room, she exclaimed: "Oh, there is no danger! That 
smile in sleep betokens naught but innocence and purity, even 
if her dream is ambitious, and God will in his mercy guide 
her steps in every danger, for in Him her young heart trusts, 
I know.'' 

Minnie slept uncommonly late the next morning, for, as we 
have seen, she was very tired; and her mother, knowing that 
she was so, did not give her the usual call. When she awoke, 
the sun was shining brightly in her little room, and the morn- 
ing looked far advanced. She leaped to the floor, and the first 
object that caught her eye was a beautiful bouquet of fresh- 
picked flowers on her dressing table. 

" Oh!" said she, " who has been here? But I know that is 
dear Walter's work. But why did he not call me ? Every 
hour I can talk with him now is most precious. It was too 
bad I slept, when, if up, I could have been with him, and 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 



40^ 



then poor, dear mother has been getting the breakfast all 
alone." 

Then Minnie raised the bouquet from the vase, thrust her 
little nose among the flowers to drink in their fragrance, say- 
ing: "What nice taste Walter has in the arrangement of a 
bouquet! How kind to think of me in this way." 

Then she kissed the knot of blue ribbons with which the flow- 
ers were tied, and replaced them in the vase. When she soon 
afterwards emerged from her room, her mother and Walter 
were seated near the father's bed, waiting for her to sit at 
breakfast with them, which was all ready. 

As she kissed them all good morning, they laughed at her for 
sleeping so late, and she chided them for not having called her. 
Then she gave another kiss to Walter for the flowers, and they 
all enjoyed an unusually happy and cheerful breakfast that 
morning, for, though there lay the sick father, and Walter's de- 
parture was so very near, yet hope now threw some of its 
bright, warm rays into that little cottage, which seemed to light 
up their future paths through life with many a charm and pleas- 
ure they never saw there before. Breakfast over, all was excite- 
ment to get Walter ready for his departure. That day Walter 
resigned his place in the hardware store; saw his friend James 
De Forest, and went with him to Sutten & Son, the agents of 
the ship on which James had taken his passage, and Walter paid 
his fare to San Francisco. The ship was to sail in just one 
week, but that gave Walter ample time to prepare himself and 
say " good-bye " to all his friends. Many little presents poured 
in on him. His old employers, with whom he was a favorite, 
gave him a handsome outfit of camp utensils for his new life in 
the mines of California; then came from lady friends of the 
family jars of preserves and sweatmeats of all sorts, which were 
most acceptable; then came a dozen or two of English ale, with 
the request that Walter would, after being a month in California, 
write fully to the donor; then a basket of champagne on the 
same arrangement. So far as James De Forest and Walter had 
seen their fellow passengers, they were most favorabl}' impressed. 
To them they appeared far above the average in education and 
intelligence; and so, in fact, they were, as they afterwards 
proved. And this character could be claimed for nearly all the 
immigrants to California at that time. The good Wagner pa- 
rents did not wait until the parting hour to give words of advice 



404 flONEER TIMES IN CU^IFORNlA. 

to their beloved son. No; they knew they could not trust them- 
selves to do it then. So thay had a long talk with Walter the 
day after his passage was taken. The mother got his solemn 
promise never to play cards, except in a social way, when ladies 
were jjresent. This promise, which \vas faithfully kept, saved 
Walter in after life from many a temptation and danger. The 
mother gave him a handsomely bound copy of the Bible, though 
diminutive in size, with a prayer for his safety inscribed in the 
first page. The father gave him that world-admired little book, 
" The Following of Christ," with a " God bless you, my boy," 
written in the first page. 

As to Minnie, there was scarcely an article in his trunk that 
did not, in some way, bring her sweet presence to his imagina- 
tion whenever he opened it. The parting day came ; it was, as 
all such days are, very lonesome and sad ; yet hojje thiew such 
sunlight into it on this occasion, that all bore up bravely and 
well. Early that morning James De Forest had called to bid 
farewell to the Wagner family; Mr. and Mrs. Wagner, with tears, 
and blessings and prayers, bade him " Godsjjeed." Minnie ac- 
companied him to the door, and then to the garden gate. Ashe 
took her hand in his, at jjarting, he said, in the lowest whisper, 
and in a voice of emotion : 

'* Minnie, will j'ou sometimes think of and pray for me ?" 

" You will always be in my thoughts and prayers when I think 
of Walter," she said, looking earnestly, brightly and calmly into 
his face; " and I will glory in your success, and be as j)roud of 
it as if you were my brother." 

In an instant he raised her hand to his lips, and, passionately 
kissing it, he said : 

" Oh, thank you, Minnie; that is all I want you to say now, 
and all I want to make me feel like a real brave man in my bat- 
tle for fortune and position in California." Then, quickly turn- 
ing to a I'osebush, he picked oJf a beautiful bud, and reaching 
it to her, he said : 

" Will you take this, and keep it until I call for it ?" 

Minnie now blushed scarlet ; then turned very pale, and with 
quivering lips, said, in a voice full of feeling, just above her 
breath : "I promise." In an instant James was out of sight, 
hurrpng toward the ship that was to take him to far-off Califor- 
nia. He murmured as he went : 

" Yes; she will keep that promise, for she never broke one in 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 405 

her life ; and if I live and am fortunate, I will come some day to 
claim this little flower." 

As Minnie turned away from the gate, her eyes were fixed on 
the rosebud, and there was a queer, new feeling about her heart, 
as she seemed to register there the promise, and she murmured : 

" Yes; there can be no harm in that ; he is a good, noble fel- 
low, and so fond of Walter, too. Yes; I will keep this bud for 
him." 

Then, walking into her own room, she opened a book to place 
it in press, and just as she was about to place it in position she 
quickly raised it to her lips, then hastily closed the book on it, 
while a quick glance around the room and a conscious blush be- 
trayed feelings she herself did not know lurked round her heart. 
Early the next day the ship sailed, bearing away Walter and his 
friend, and leaving poor Minnie with a lonesome heart and in a 
fit of weeping she, for some time, found it impossible to over- 
come. But Minnie was, as Walter said, a great little woman, 
and, as she said herself, she had her father and mother to com- 
fort; so, in a surprisingly short time, she was once more, with 
smiling face, performing her daily duties, and doing all she 
could to cheer up her parents. 

After a reasonably short and pleasant voyage, Walter Wagner 
and James De Forest found themselves in San Francisco. 

That we may understand better their future careers, let us say 
a word of the general character of each of them. James De 
Forest was just twenty-one years old; he was of middle height, 
well-built, good-looking, and prepossessing in his manners and 
general appearance; he had a good education, and was of steady, 
cautious business habits, and a good judge of character; he was 
upright and honorable in all his dealings with every one. Walter 
Wagner was one year younger, but looked older; tall and well- 
built, and promised to be a powerful man when fully developed; 
his education was good; he was frank and off-hand in his ways, 
but was far too confiding, and, therefore, subject to be often the 
victim of designing men; he meant no wrong to any one himself, 
and he judged others by himself, and gave his confidence, with- 
out reserve, to any one who would make a pretence or show of 
friendship or good-will towards him ; he was not a good judge 
of character, mainly because he never stopj)ed to examine it 
carefully; when deceived, he was furious on the discovery, and 
never thought of blaming himself, as he should have done, for 



406 PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFOENIA., 

the careless way in which he had laid himself open to the 
deception; when he formed an acquaintance that ho liked he was 
impatient if any one said a word to throw a doubt or suspicion 
on the character of his new-found friend ; this was a serious 
fault, and often lost Walter, in his new home, the friendship of 
good and true men, and exposed him to the infiaeuco and 
designs of the cunning and deceitful. 

On their arrival in San Francisco, neither of our young friends 
had money enough to pay their way to the mines, which was 
very expensive at that time, so they were forced to look for em- 
ployment in the city. James De Forest engaged himself for 
three months, at two hundred dollars a month, to a company of 
three or four men, who were' about to put a steamer on the Co- 
lumbia Kiver, in Oregon. "Walter hired to White, McGlynn & 
Oliver, to drive team, at one hundred and seventy-five dollars a 
month. So the two friends had to separate, which they regret- 
ted, though well pleased at their first start as to money; for, 
my young readers, if you have never experienced what it is to 
step into a strange community without a dollar in your jjocket, 
you can have no conception of the happy relief it is to suddenly 
find yourself well provided for. Walter's frank, off-hand, open 
ways soon won the good-will of McGlynn, who drew from him 
the whole story of the way he got the necessary money to come 
to California, and of Minnie's part in it. Mack's generous heart 
was touched, and he at once got his firm to advance to Walter a 
hundred dollars of his wages. So Walter that night, the next 
day being " steamer day," wrote a long letter to the loved ones 
at home, in which he inclosed Allen, Wheeler & Co.'s receipt for 
the fifty dollars Minnie had got from Mr. Allen, and a draft on 
Allen & Eoman for fifty more. In this letter he gave a full account 
of his voyage, and tried to give them a just and correct idea of 
the business prospects in California. In thus coming down to 
the real facts of the case, he had, of course, to dispel any hope 
they might have had of his finding gold by the half-bushelful 
at a time. That he had struck a glorious and prosperous land, 
the inclosures he was enabled to send them, in this, his first let- 
ter, ought to satisfy them. He concluded by asking them to give 
three cheers for California, and three more for the end of shirt- 
making. There was not a lazy bone in Walter's body, so ho 
■worked well and zealously with his team, and every day made 
friends; but this sort of employment did not suit him. and it ap- 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. i07 

peared a slow -way of making" money, after all, in California. So 
at the end of two months he struck out for the southern mines, 
by which general designation all the placer regions watered by 
the San Joaquin and its tributaries were then designated. For 
the first six months in the mines he made money fast. His good 
habits, good humor and untiring hard work secured him a 
place in a company of industrious and intelligent workers. Un- 
fortunately, however, his company undertook, at great expense, 
to dam the waters of one of the main rivers, and, for a short 
distance, to turn its waters from the natural channel, hoping to 
find immense deposits of gold in its bed. They accomplished 
the great undertaking in two months, but found no gold worth 
talking of, and every dollar the}^ had made previously was gone 
in the enterprise. Nothing daunted, Walter went to work 
again, and made money fast, as before. Sometimes his day's work 
brought him half an ounce, and sometimes two, and even three 
ounces of fine gold. Again he found himself the owner of over 
three thousand dollars, and again his ambition spurred him to 
go into a ditch enterprise that promised a prodigious return. 
This ditch was to bring water some five miles to a placer region, 
then unworked, though rich, for want of water to wash out the 
gold. The engineer who undertook to direct the operations of 
the compan}^ proved to be entirely ignorant of his business, the 
whole project was a failui'e, and Walter found himseK once more 
without a dollar. Again he struggled and won success, and 
again lost nearly all by misplaced confidence in a sharper, who 
robbed him. It was now away in the last part of the Summer 
of 1850, and Walter was, in fact, little better off than when he 
commenced. But he was not down-hearted or discouraged. His 
young blood ran fast from heart to limb, and back to heart 
again, with free, healthy pulsations, bringing to his whole sys- 
tem energy and courage that would not tolerate him in looking 
back or indulging in useless regrets, but pushed him on in the 
wild routine" of California's rushing business. It was no small 
satisfaction, either, to him to feel, as he contemplated the suc- 
cess and failures of the past year, that he had i^roved his power 
to make money, even if he had lost it again, and, besides that, 
he had regularly sent one hundred dollars home, each month, to 
those he loved so much. As he looked forward, with undimin- 
ished hope, he exclaimed: 

" I would not take five thousand dollars for my experience. I 



408 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 



■will not try to go so fast in future; I will do as James De Forest 
is doing; I will go ' slow and sure.' " 

Hearing of extensive new discoveries of placer diggings in the 
vicinity of Downieville, in the northern mines, he struck out for 
them, spent his last dollar in buying into a claim, and was 
once more lucky. His partner in the claim, Isaac Hilton, proved 
to be a first-class man; prudent, shrewd and wise. He was 
some ten years older than Walter, and had a most salutary in- 
fluence over him. When their claim was worked out, they found 
themselves with a cash capital of five thousand dollars. With 
this they opened a little trading-post, or store, a few miles from 
Downieville, high up in a mountain canyon, where a host of 
miners were at work. The site on which stood their little mer- 
cantile shanty was picturesque and beautiful. Now, once more, 
fortune seemed about to deal out her choicest favors to Walter. 
He felt proud and happy, and wrote to Minnie in glowing terms 
of his prospects, and excited her imagination to the highest, by 
the poetic, romantic description he gave her of his house in the 
mountains, expressing the most earnest wish that she and his 
mother could be Avith him, for he had just had the sad news of 
his father's death. When poor Walter wrote this letter, little 
did he dream that the great struggle of his life, the turning point 
on which all was to depend, was yet before him. The men into 
whose employment James De Forest had entered were successful 
in their enterprise beyond their expectations, and soon took 
James into partnership. He had not grown rich fast, but every 
month improved the prospects of his company, and he was 
slowly and surely becoming one of the most prominent and 
wealthy men connected with the navigation of the coast and in- 
land waters of Oregon. Walter and he had never met since 
their separation in San Francisco, but they were in constant 
correspondence, and every circumstance connected with Walter's 
family was always of the first interest to young De Forest. 



CHAPTER n. 



SIR JOHN CAMEKON — AGNES AND- LUSK. 

Now let mo draw attention, in this chapter, to far-off England. 
The spot I will take the reader to is the beautiful residence of 
Sir John Cameron Ward, not many miles from the city of Lon- 
don; a proud old Baron, who is not half so proud of his title or his 
riches as ho is of the untarnished honor of his whole race in the 
jjast. He is good-hearted, unsuspicious and generous, almost 
to a fault; he is a devoted husband and an indulgent father; he 
has an amiable, good wife and two beautiful daughters, aged, 
respectively, seventeen and nineteen. The education of Mar- 
garet, the elder, is just completed. She is beautiful and ambi- 
tious. Agnes, the younger, is yet under instruction, and she 
seems to have no developed aim in life, except it is to please 
every one. The father loves them both devotedly, and never de- 
nies them anything in his power to procure for them. To watch 
his intercourse with his two children, you could not help think- 
ing that his love for the younger is more marked and, perhaps, 
of a more tender character than that for the elder. 

The young ladies are very fond of riding on horseback, and 
they each have a beautiful riding animal at their command . The 
old coachman has lately died, and his place is taken by a man who 
was recommended to Sir John by a nobleman, a particular 
friend of the family. This new coachman's name is Thomas 
Lusk. He is tall, fine-looking, and not over twenty-five years old, 
and, for his position, he is remarkably genteel in his manners 
and deportment, and, in fact, far above his position. He has a 
thoi'ough knowledge of horses, and is a careful and excellent 
driver. In the presence of Sir John and his lady, his manner is 
remarkably subservient, almost abject; but when alone with the 
young ladies it is sometimes free, bordering on impudence. 
On one of these occasions, the elder daughter gave him a severe 
reproof; so, with her, he was afterwards more careful. When 
the young ladies rode out without their father or other gentle- 



410 PIOXEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 

man escort, it was Lust's place to follow at a respectful distance, 
and be within call, should they need his assistance. It was on 
one of these rides that Margaret reproved him so severely. 
Unasked, he had ridden up and intruded himself into the sisters' 
conversation, and Margaret at once ordered him back to his 
place. Agnes was mortified at her sister's severity, and after- 
wards took an opportunity to tell Lusk that she was sorry her 
sister had acted so inconsiderately. Lusk was, in fact, a low, 
designing villain, who was recommended to Sir John only be- 
cause the nobleman who did so was also deceived by a man high 
in official position, to whom it was said Lusk was in some way 
disreputably related. This apology from Agnes gave Lusk an 
insight into her character that he resolved to turn to his own 
account. He exerted himself in every way to please her. To 
her he always assumed a sad, down-cast demeanor. He put 
himself in her way in every possible manner, and on one occa- 
sion, when the family were out, he made a pretence of showing 
her something about her riding-horse, and, while leading the 
horse and walking with her, he poured into her ear a made-up 
history of his family, in which he had been the victim of the 
dishonesty of an uncle, and was now forced to take this humili- 
ating position, under a false name, as he told her, to save a dar- 
ling mother and sister from want and starvation. While relat- 
ing this story, he played his part to perfection, often having to 
stop, overcome by emotion, caused by the sad recollections he 
was forcing himself to recall. Poor Agnes was in tears, and, as 
she was leaving, he put in her hands two letters — one purport- 
ing to be from his almost broken-hearted mother, thanking and 
blessing him for accepting his present subordinate position for 
her and his dear sister's sake; the other letter purported to be 
from his sister, and was to the same effect. He then cautioned 
Agnes to tell no one, or he would be disgraced and utterly lost, 
and, above all things, to let no one see the letters, but to return 
them as soon as possible. Agnes, now that she found that Lusk 
was, as she supposed, a gentleman by birth, became immensely 
interested in him, and whenever she met him alone afterwards 
treated him as an equal. This soon led to the confession 
from him that he loved her to distraction. She listened with 
bated breath, hesitated, and was lost. The villain now planned 
an elopement and private marriage. Thus the terrible blow fell 
on a house on whose escutcheon no tarnished sjDot ever appeared 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA.. 411 

before. Sir John shut himself up for weeks and months, and 
for long years never allowed poor Agnes' name to be spoken in 
his presence. The poor girl soon realized not only the terrible 
blight she had brought on her home, but also the true character 
of the man Lusk. The day after the marriage, he coolly told 
her the whole truth, acknowledging the deceit he had practiced 
on her, and that he himself was nothing but an outcast. When 
she fainted away at the revelation, he shook her brutally, call- 
ing her a fool, and, when restored to full consciousness, he told 
her to recollect thai he was now her master by the laws of Eng- 
land; that he wanted no child's play, and that she must write at 
once to her father for money. Finding that she was physically, 
as well as mentall}^ unable to obey him, he flew to the trunk 
containing her j)ersonal effects, which she had contrived to 
bring away with her from her father's house, and, ransacking it 
all through, took every article of jewelry she owned. They 
were all her Christmas and birthday presents, from her child- 
hood until this unfortunate day, and Avere of considerable value. 
With these he left the house, and returned towards night half- 
drunk, with plenty of money in his pockets. He now assumed 
a kinder manner, and asked Agnes to forgive him for the part 
he had played, pretending that it was his love for her that had 
led him to it. He adopted this course as the best way of oper- 
ating on her parents, and kept it up for nearly a year; but, not 
finding it successful, he again gave way to his real instincts, and 
became fearful in his brutality towards the unfortunate girl. A 
child was born to them. He had it christened with all the pub- 
licity he could, and named it John Cameron W^ard Lusk. But 
all this brought no aid or notice of any sort from the family. 
Lusk grew desperate, and joined a regular baud of house rob- 
bers. He was soon elected their Captain, on account of his 
superior skill and daring. Now passed years of misery and 
horror for Agnes. Beaten, kicked and cuffed, and often half- 
starved, she remained the robber's wife and abject slave. The 
child grew large and sti-ong, in spite of his father's brutality to 
him. When beaten or kicked by the father, he flew to the 
mother, whose screams would sometimes protect him. On these 
occasions he would not cry, but look towards his father, and his 
mother would tremble at the terrible, dark look in his eyes as 
they fell full on his father's face. 

" Oh," his father would sometimes exclaim, as he met the 



412 PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 

dark look, " that boy lias a devil inside of him, instead of a 
soul. "Well, he will do to take my place some day, for I see he 
is surely a chip of the old block." 

At length, the bandit resolved to rob Sir John's house. The 
expedition was all well planned, and Lusk's familiarity with the 
premises made it an easy " job," the robbers thought. When 
all was arranged, that night Lusk returned home as usual, half- 
drunk. Throwing himself into a chair, he gave out a mocking 
sort of a laugh, saying: 

"I am thinking how nicely I will be even with that old 
dotard, your father. Oh, yes; I will be even with the old vil- 
lain that has left us to starve." 

Agnes trembled and grew sick Avith fear, for she knew what 
Xiusk's words must mean. She controlled herself, however, as 
she was most anxious to discover his plans, and she knew 
silence was her best way to effect that. She arose, laid his 
supper on the table for him, and again took her seat, without 
uttering a word. He commenced to eat, without further re- 
mark. Just as he had finished eating, a man whom Agnes had 
often seen before with her husband came in, and, without invi- 
tation, threw himself into a vacant chair. Without saying a 
word to the man, Lusk turned to Agnes, and said, bluntly: 

"Leave the room. I want to talk on business to this gentle- 
man." 

Agnes slowly arose from her seat, and walked with a sort of la 
listless stej) out of the room; but the moment she closed the 
door she darted with a noiseless step into a closet that was in 
the wall between the two rooms, and close to where Lusk sat. 
As she stood, with breathless, listening attention, she heard 
him give his confederate, who seemed not to have been at their 
late council, the full particulars of their plan of robbing Sir 
John's house the following night, concluding with: 

" We will go armed to the teeth, for none of us must be 
taken alive in any event; and, if a scramble does come, I will 
take good care that old Sir John will never live to prosecute 
me — or persecute me, either — any more." 

As quick as thought, Agnes left her place in the closet, and 
now, as Lusk and his confederate came out of the room, they 
found her as if half-dozing in an old, rickety chair, gazing into 
the badly lit, ill-cared-for London street, in which the robber 
had his miserable home. For a little while her mind was in a 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFOENIA. 413 

■ttbirl of excitement. Her father's life, perhaps that of the 
whole family, was threatened. Yes; her dear, good father, who 
had never in all his life said one cross word to her, and on 
whom she had already brought such shame and sorrow by her 
disobedience. Yes; was her fault to go still further, and cause 
his murder ? 

" No, no ; God forbid ; she would put him on his guard." B')t 
oh, how could she do it in time, and so as to avoid the vigilance 
of her robber husband ? Poor, generous, girl ; sho never con- 
demned nor found fault with the unnatural, cruel and anti-Chris- 
tian edicts of the English society, which condemned her f ;ult 
as one not to be forgiven, even when repented of with tears of 
anguish like hers, so often shed. No; as became a true English 
girl, she bows to its heathen laws, without one doubt of their jus- 
tice crossing her mind. She was all in fault ; no one else had 
done anything wrong or un-Christian, though she should starve 
or be trampled to death by a villain husband. After due reflec- 
tion, she determined that as soon as Lusk should leave the house, 
the next morning, she would make her way to her father's house, 
and privately see her mother, for she dare not venture to see her 
father, unbidden, under any pretence, and in this way put them 
all on their guard. That night she tried to sleep, but whenever 
she dozed she saw Lusk murdering her father. To her relief, 
morning came at length, and Lusk left at the usual hour. Not 
a moment was to be lost. She had from time to time, by half- 
starving herself, saved a few shillings out of the money given to 
her by Lusk for the purchase of food. This she now put in 
her pocket, and, instructing her son, now six years old, what to 
say in case his father should happen to return during her ab- 
sence, she started for the railroad station, took a seat in a sec- 
ond-class car, and was soon at the station, which was within 
half a mile of her father's beautiful residence. Oh ! who can 
imagine or describe her thoughts and feelings as, after seven 
long years' absence, she walked on with trembling step toward 
the grand old iron gate, that opened the way through the mag- 
nificent avenue and beautiful lawn that was all hers in childhood, 
to love and enjoy, when the world looked a paradise before her, 
and when her steps were all guarded and watched as though she 
were heiress to a throne. She hurries on, and luckily no one 
notices or accosts her. She is very close to the house, when the 
old house dog runs out and barks at her ; but now he stops, for 



414 PIONEER TIMES IN CAI.IFORNIA. 

oh, he knows his long lost, but darling mistress, for he belonged 
to Agnes individually, and she often thought of his having bitten 
Lusk the first time the fellow made so free with her as to take, 
her hand in his. She glances all around ; no one, she thinks, 
was looking, so she stoops and hugs the dog, as she often did, 
long, long ago. Then, kissing him ajffectionately, she hurries 
on, while he runs before her yelping, and rolling over and over, 
and making every demonstration of joy. All this is observed by 
Agnes' mother from an upper window of the house, and, without 
thinking or knowing that she recognized in the miserable girl 
before her her own lost child, she almost flies down the great 
staircase, opens her arms wide, but utters not a word. In an 
instant the child's arms are clasped around the mother's neck, 
while, in a convulsion of grief and choking sobs, she implores 
forgiveness. The mother, too, cries and sobs in agony, for she 
now, for the first time, fully realizes the terrible fate of her beau- 
tiful child. The mere skeleton she held in her arms ; the wan 
face, and wild eyes, and miserable clothing, all tell the fearful 
story . 

" Oh, mother, hide me from my father! I would not have come 
at all, but that I have a terrible thing to tell you that I could not 
get any one else that I could trust to explain to you." 

" Calm yourself, my poor darling," the mother whispered ; 
" and do not fear your father. He has had terrible dreams about 
you of late, and has just concluded to look you up and forgive 
you, which he would have done long ago, but that he feared to 
offend the ideas and laws of society ; so, do not fear to meet him, 
my poor darling. Come to my own little room, and tell me all 
you want, and let me hold you in my lap, and rest your head in 
its own old place, my darling." And so they were seated, when 
Agnes exclaimed : 

" Oh ! mother, all is now over for me in this world ; I feel it 
Tiere, and here," she said, placing her hand first on her head, and 
then on her heart. " A few more weary days, and my task is 
over, and my terrible journey finished ; but oh, how happy I 
■will be if you all forgive me before T go ; and father will kiss 
me, and call me some of his old pet names, and that will be life 
enough for me." Then, suddenly starting erect, in her moth- 
er's arms, she exclaimed: "But, mother, I am losing time, 
when there is no time to lose ; I came to tell you something ter- 
rible." 



PiONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 415 

Then she, with hurried voice, related all that she had heard of 
the j)lans of the robbers, and how they had resolved not to be 
taken alive, and how they had planned to kill her father if there 
was any resistance. But she never revealed that Lusk was to be 
the leader of the party, or to be there at all; for, somehow, she 
could not bring herself to that, and it was evidently unnecessary. 
Her mother now insisted that she should not return to London, 
or anj'' more leave her old home; but a few words from Agnes 
convinced her that to pursue this course would be to reveal every- 
thing to the robbers and endanger her own life, without hav- 
ing accomiDlished any good. Her mother then proposed to 
change her clothes; but no, that, too, would insure her discovery 
and destruction. Then, with an aching heart, she filled out a 
glass of wine, and induced Agnes to swallow it. Then, after one 
more silent, impassioned embrace, they parted; Agnes leaving 
as she had come, and no one in the whole house knew that the 
poor, miserable looking girl they saw, with supreme dismay, pass- 
ing put of Lady "Ward's room, was no other than the once favorite 
child of the whole family. Lady "Ward had to hold the old dog 
with her handkerchief around his neck, or he would have fol- 
lowed poor Agnes back to London, and after he was liberated he 
whined and moaned piteously, while he lay, as if in suffering, on 
the ground. Just then Sir John rode up, and, as he alighted 
and threw the bridle-rein to the servant in waiting, the old dog 
rushed to him, and, looking up in his face, commenced the same 
piteous moaning and howling. 

" Why," said Sir John; "what is the matter with you, Nero?" 

The dog now redoubled his demonstrations of grief or pain, 
and ran down the avenue for a little way, with his nose close to 
the ground; then back again to Sir John; then be sat back on 
his haunches and gave out a long, fearful, cont.kiuous cry. Sir 
John regarded the old dog with astonishment, and said : 

" I believe the poor old creature is going to die; but what does 
he mean by running down the avenue in that way V" Then turning 
to a servant who was approaching him, he asked: " Has any one 
been here lately ?" 

" No one. Sir John, that I have seen, except a ragged looking 
girl, who was, for a little time, with Lady "Ward in her room." 

And then the servant told him Lady "Ward wished to see him 
in her room. 

Sir John trembled all over, and grew deadly pale. But what 



416 PIOXEEK TIMES IX CALIFORXIA. 

caused liis agitation lie had not the least idea. In liis wife's 
room the mystery was soon explained. Sir John was shocked 
aud terrified at the description of poor Agnes and her temble 
misery. His manhood, for a time, forsook him, and he gave 
way to uncontrolled grief; as he paced up and down the room he 
cried out: 

" Oh, I have been an unnatural father! I have allowed the 
cold, unnatural laws of society to govern me, and have let my 
child, my sweet, my poor, darling, simple child, the victim of a 
cunning villain, be beaten and starved to death, without once 
inquiring to know her fate ! Oh, England, my countiyl why 
do vou mauufactttre religion by acts of Parliament, which give 
us Christianity in a form so cold and icy that it can neither reach 
the heart nor soften down the tynvnny of the rules of cold society ? 
Oh, my child! my murdered child! forgive, forgive youi- father ; 
and. oh! may G-od forgive me, too!" 

Then suddenly he recalled the threatening danger to his house- 
hold, and exclaimed: 

" Aye, aye; we must ward off this threatened blow." 



I 



CHAPTER III. 



A SELFISH CHILD — FATHER AND DAUGHTER. 

Agnes, on leaving her mother, retraced her way to London. 
She took her place in the railroad car, all wild with excitement; 
she knew not why. She was no longer weak or trembling, as she 
had been approaching her old home; her step was light, as 
though her whole frame weighed nothing; her vision was clear 
and intensely sensitive to every object, far and near; there 
seemed to be within her some violent contention. 

" What have I done ! What have I done !" she murmured to 
herself, as her wild, bright eyes flashed from side to side, as if 
seeking for sympathy or relief in the surroundings. " He is the 
father of my child. Yes, yes; he is, and he will be shot to-night, 
and I have done it. " Oh !" she continued, as her eyes were 
now riveted on the plain gold ring on her finger. " I swore that 
morning in the church to be true to him until death. Oh, God ! 
what have I done!" As she whispered this to herself, she started 
to her feet, as if aroused beyond control by some bitter pang ; 
then, dropping back into her seat, she rested her forehead, now 
streaming with perspiration, on her hand, and murmured : 
" Yes, my God; I thank Thee for the thought ; if I did anything 
but what I have done, I would be my own father's murderer, and 
no vow ever made on earth is holy that would justify that." 

It was late in the afternoon when Agnes found herself on the 
stairway to her garret home. The little boy answered her eager 
questions as to his father, by informing her that he had not re- 
turned. As she stooped and kissed the child, a pang again darted 
through her, and again she started, trembled, and became dead- 
ly pale. The boy looked at her with a strange, meaning intelli- 
gence, as he said, in a blunt way : 

"I won't tell him." 

" No, of course you won't, my pet ; and I have brought j'ou a 

nice cake, all for yourself." Then she kissed him, Avith cold lips, 
27 



418 PIONEER TIMES IX CALIEORNTA, 

and lie snatched the cake from her hands and ran off to devour 
it in his usual, selfish way, alone. Agnes, prompted by some 
new feeling she herself did not understand, took more pains than 
commonly to put thirgs to right, and make her wretched room 
look its best. She looknl over the scanty store of provisions on 
hand, hesitated for a moment, and then, drawing from her pocket 
bright shillings, she looked at them wistfully; then, reaching 
out for her old, faded shawl, she threw it over her head and darted 
down the stairway, murmuring to herself as she went : 

" Yes; it is all I have iu the world, but I will spend it for him." 

In a few moments she returned with a beefsteak, and in a short 
time had the evening meal prepared and all in readiness for 
Lusk when he should make his appearance. Hj came at the ac- 
customed hour. He seemed excited, but in uncommonly good 
humor, and, as he glanced at the nicely prepared supper and gen- 
eral surroundings, he excaimed, smilingly : 

" "Why, Aggie, you are getting to be a great little housekeep- 
er ; but where on earth did you find the money to get that nice, 
tempting beefsteak ? for I believe I did not leave 3-ou a penny 
for the last three days." 

Agnes trembled, grew pale, but tried to smile, as she stam- 
mered out that she found two shillings in her trunk that morn- 
in"". Lusk observed her agitation, and looked on her, not as of 
old, but with an expression of kindness and concern Agnes had 
never seen in his face before. 

" Come, poor Aggie," he said ; " you do not look well. You 
and Johnny must share this steak with me to-night ; come, bring 
the boy ; there is enough for us all, and to-morrow I will have 
plenty of money, or" — and he stopped for a moment as if chok- 
ing, but, clearing his throat, he concluded with : 

" Yes, yes ; to-morrow I will have plenty of money for us all, 
and more than we want." 

His words seemed to confuse and bewilder Agnes. She snatched 
up the boy in an excited way, and placed him at the table ; took 
a seat herself, and ate in a quick, nervous way, feeling as if in a 
dream, for Lusk talked and laughed to-night as she had never 
heard him in her married life do before. It sounded strange and 
unnatural, and excited her almost beyond control; but, by a des- 
perate effort of will, she kept herself within bounds, and Lusk 
never observed her anguish of mind. Just as their meal was fin- 
ished, heavy footsteps were heard on the stairway, and presently 



PIONEER nMES IN CALIFOENU. 419 

a dark complexioned, lieavy-whiskered man, in a heavy, gray 
overcoat, entered the room, unbidden. 

"Well," said the stranger ; "you are eating; it is time we 
"werecnthe move; so, hurry up, Captain." Lask assented, and, 
stepping behind a ragged curtain Agnes had hung to guard her 
bed from sight, he changed his clothes, and prepared himself 
fully for his night's work. As he did so, he now and then ex- 
changed a word with the stranger on the general news of the 
day. At the sight of this man Agnes almost swooned away, and 
saved herself from falling only by dropping back in her chair. 
There she sat, motionless and unobserved by the two men, whose 
whole thoughts were evidently on their own business. The 
boy had crawled into his little bed the moment he had finished 
supper, and is now fast asleep. Lusk is ready, and both men 
leave the room, Avithout even a glance at Agnes, whose eyes are 
wild, and burning like coals of fire, while every muscle and limb 
is powerless to move. Just as Lusk is about to descend the 
stairway, he remembers Agnes, for the first time he had ever 
done so on such occasions. He stops, and turns back into the 
room. He walks to where Agnes is yet seated, motionless. He 
stoops, and says in a low voice : 

" Agnes, if anything should happen to me, and that I never 
come back, you know, forgive me for all the terrible misery I 
brought on you; I did not intend it ; I thought your father would 
forgive us, you know." 

Agnes struggled to speak, but her tongne refused its office, 
and it was well, for justice's sake, that it did, for the generous 
woman would have given way, and saved a villain's life had she 
had speech to do it. Lusk saw the struggle in her face, and 
continued: 

" Never mind, poor Aggie; I swear I will be kind to you for- 
evermore." And he stooped and kissed her cold, marble cheek, 
and then he turned quickly to the bed of the child and stooped 
to kiss him, but at that moment the boy opened his eyes, and, 
with his little fist clenched, he struck back his father's head with 
all his force, crying: 

" There, get away; you shan't kick me so any more." 

Lusk arose to his full height, and, looking down on the child 
savagely, muttered between his teeth: 

" Curse the brat!" 

Then he was starting down the stairway to join his confed- 



420 PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 

erates, and the street door was beard to bang behind the robbers. 
At the soundj Agnes leaped from her chair as if aroused from a 
trance; she flew to the stair- way, and in a moment more was in 
the half-lighted, dismal street; a heavy fog, which was almost 
rain, added to its fearful gloom; she knew the way to the rail- 
road station, and, supposing the confederates had gone in that 
direction, dashed on, without either bonnet or shawl; her long, 
beautiful hair, which had fallen loose, streamed out behind her 
in the wetting atmosphere. Suddenly a stout arm arrested her 
progress, and then the glaring light of a policeman's lamp was 
on her face and person. 

'* Ah," said the night-watch, in a sort of a kind voice; "young, 
beautiful and of rare, fine stock, too, but miserable and starved, 
I see. Ah, a wedding ring, too ! Poor thing! AVhere are you 
going? or what do you want ? Can I help you ?'* 

Agnes at first tried to pass, but that she found im230ssible, and 
suddenly her jDresence of mind returned, and she realized her 
position. She said, mildly: 

"Oh, I was trying to overtake a friend, but I see I am too 
late; so I will go home." 

As she turned to go, the officer said: 

" Shall I see you safe back? This fog makes the night so 
dark that you may miss your way." 

" No, no, I thank you; I would rather go alone, so please let 
me." 

This was said in a voice of supplication, so the officer intruded 
no further, but said, as he turned away : 

" God help you, poor child, whoever you are." 
Agnes thanked him, and, hurriedly retracing her steps, soon 
found herself again in her dismal garret, standing by the bed of 
her boy, with the candle in her hand, gazing down at his face. 
She was wet, cold and j)ale, with her eyes still glowing with un- 
natural brightness. She murmured as she gazed: 

" Yes, he is gone for ever; and, oh, my God! he cursed his 
boy as he left him!" 

Then she laid her candle down and commenced to walk up 
and down her garret floor, with her arms sometimes folded across 
her breast; sometimes both hands were clasped tightly on her 
forehead. At the least uncommon noise in the street she would 
start, and be on the point of screaming out. On, on, she walked 
for hours and hours, sometimes .muttering to herself broken 
sentences, such as: 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 421 

" Wlien lie was so kind to me to-niglit, why did I not go on my 
knees to him, and implore him to give up his terrible plot ? Why 
did I not confess to him what I had done, and let him kill me 
on the spot? Oh, it would have been so much easier than to 
endure this terrible feeling. If I had done that, it would have 
saved father just as well. Oh, how can I ever hug my boy again, 
when it Vv-as I who — but I will not let myself think of it, for I 
could not help it. Oh, when will this terrible night have an end ? 
Oh, God, be merciful, and help me!" 

On, on, poor Agnes walks. She hears the clock strike two. 
Now her head leans forward, and her face is clasped in both her 
hands; she turns to her child's bed, drops on her knees, and, 
without removing her hands, lets her head rest forv/ard on the 
bed; she tries to pray; then overcome and worn-out nature has 
its way, and she is fast asleep. Another hour passes, and now 
her whole frame seems to writhe in agony, for her dreams are of 
a bloody struggle between her father and her husband. With a 
half-scream she leaps to her feet, drenched in cold perspiration, 
yet half -awake; the light is dim in the room; she trembles 
with fear of she knows not what; then her ears catch the noise 
of a carriage rattling over the pavements; she starts, and ex- 
claims : 

" Ah, what carriage can that be at this hour ?" 
It is nothing strange, either, for London, in any hour of day 
or night, yet now her gaze is transfixed; she cannot move, and 
scarcely breathes. Yes; the carriage stops at the street door, and 
now Agnes hears several voices, as if in consultation; the door 
is opened, and some one ascends the stairs, with a firm, heavy 
step; that step is recognized by every nerve in her system; she 
drops on her knees, clasps her hands above her head, and, as the 
door opens, exclaims: 

" Father, forgive your poor child!" 

The answer is a passionate embrace, with whisperings of pet 
names, that tell of the overflowing of pent-up love. 

In a few short hours more Agnes is in her own old room in 
her own old home. 



CHAPTER IV. 

THE EOBBEKS TRAPPED YOUN'G LTJSK. 

When Sir John learned the danger that threatened his house- 
hold from Lady Wai"d, it was too late to send to London for po- 
lice assistance, so he had to depend on his own resources. He 
at once summoned to his counsel three gentlemen who were his 
visitors, two of whom were army officers. The whole plan of 
defence was soon arranged. Twenty reliable men were found to 
put under arms. Everything being ready, and every man well 
instructed and put in his place, the lights were put out at the 
usual hour. The trap laid for the robbers worked to a charm. 
A little after midnight they came in force, and found the en- 
trance to the house much easier than they had expected. .After 
seciu'ing the booty they sought for, they turned to descend from 
the window by which they had entered, when a terribly deadly 
fire saluted them; they were off their guard, and every one of 
them but one powerful fellow dropped dead on the spot. This 
man who escaped was evidently the leader. He dropped to the 
ground also on the first fire, but seemed to recover himself, and 
dashed off towards the avenue. In five minutes more Sir John 
and four of his friends were on their way to London for Agnes 
and her boy. In the afternoon of that day the body of a large 
man was found under an old oak tree, where, from the appear- 
ance of the ground and the position of the body, it was evident 
he had died in terrible agony. It was the body of Lusk; and 
this was the very tree under which he had met Agnes, to arrange 
for her elopement. Sir John and the old gardener were the 
only two who recognized the body as that of Lusk, and they 
kept their own counsel. 

Two weeks from the day of her arrival at her old home, Agnes 
yielded up her blighted life. She expired, surrounded by all 
the loved ones of her childhood and girlhood, with her head 



PIONEER TIMES IN CiVLEFORNU. 



423 



resting ou her father's bosom, and her wasted white arms clasped 
around his neck. 

Sir John now took the greatest pains with the little boy, 
poor Agnes' sole bequest. He was petted by the whole 
household, but, somehow, he appeared without any real attach- 
ment to any one, often gave symptoms of a dark, revengeful 
temper, and was often singularly cruel towards animals. At 
twelve 3'ears of age, he was sent to a school of much reputation, 
where he improved in all his studies rapidly. Here, however, he 
got into a quarrel with one of the teachers, and on that occasion 
displayed such a fearfully dark temper that he was expelled. At 
the next school he went to, he made the same rapid progress in 
his studies. One day, while at this school, he came home from 
a Avalk, and reported a school fellow drowned in a deep canal in 
the neighborhood. His story was, that the drowned bo}* was his 
companion in the walk, and had stumbled headlong into the 
canal, and was drowned before he could render him an}^ assist- 
ance. When the body was taken from the canal, it was found to 
be bruised and cut about the head, which caused many dark sus- 
picions at the time, which, in after years, were revived by a 
woman's story of once having seen two boys in a desperate fight 
on the spot where the body was found, when one, she said, over- 
powered the other and flung him into the canal. 

Young Lusk grew tall, handsome and powerful; was intelligent 
and bright, and, when he Avished, could make himself most 
agreeable to men and fascinating to women. Sir John never 
cared to have him much at home, and now he got him a place as 
midshipman on board a man-of-war going on a long cruise. He 
was not popular with his messmates. The ship returned in one 
year, and on this occasion Sir John was most liberal to the mid- 
shipman in the way of money. Young Lusk dashed into all sorts 
of excesses, and closed his visit home by forging his grand- 
father's name to a check for two hundred pounds. The grand- 
father discovered the forgery, though no one else did, just before 
the ship sailed, and summoned the boj- before him, upbraided 
him for his crime, explained its enormity, and warned him of 
the consequences if he ever again was guilty of the like. Lusk 
asked forgiveness, and promised never again to offend. The 
very next time his ship returned to port, Lusk repeated his crime; 
this time for a yet larger sum. Sir John again paid the forged 
check, without bringing the young man to justice, but gave him 



424 PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 

notice tliatthe next time tlie laiv should take its course, let the 
consequences be ever so terrible. For some two years after this 
all went well. Lusk stood well with his commander, and had 
just passed his examination with credit. He was given two 
weeks' leave of absence, but, instead of going to see his grand- 
father, he stopped in London, and dashed again into every con- 
ceivable excess and dissipation. He soon found himself involved 
in debt beyond all possibility of paying, and again resorted to 
his dexterous pen for relief. This time he forged Sir John's 
name to a check for two thousand pounds. Very soon after the 
bank had paid the check, the clerk, whose duty it was to file 
away all checks, as he put this in its place, happened to observe 
that a private mark Sir John had lately notified the bank that he 
had adopted was not on the check. In an instant the forgery was 
discovered, and, as Lusk had himself presented the check, and 
as his name was in the body of it, it was not hard to trace him 
out; so, in a few hours more, young Lusk found himself locked 
in jail, on a charge of forgery. The result was his conviction, 
and sentence to hard labor for life in the penal colonies. 

The only influence his unfortunate grandfather sought to exer- 
cise in his favor was to get this sentence for him, instead of an 
ignominious death on the sca£fold, which the laws of England at 
that time allowed a Judge to inflict at his discretion. The mo- 
ment Lusk was sentenced, he assumed a sad, penitent deport- 
ment, and when he reached the convict ship, he wrote in this 
spirit to his grandfather, and begged of him to write to the Gov- 
ernor and prominent officials in Australia, to ask all the indul- 
gence in his favor that it was possible to give, not inconsistent 
with their sense of duty. As he closed the letter, and sent it off, 
he exclaimed : 

" Yes; I will play my part well, and that will give me an op- 
portunity to escape. Yes; I will escape, as sure as there is a sun 
to shine in Australia. The fetters that could hold a man like me 
were never yet forged. Why, I have in my veins the noblest 
blood in England, mingled with the most daring, villainous 
blood ; surely, that ought to make a villain of uncommon fame. 
Yes; the blood of the noble lion, mingled with the blood of the 
sneaking wolf, ought to produce an animal with ambition to 
reach out for anything, and with instincts that would make it 
natural for it not to hesitate to adopt any means, no matter how 
Jow and vile they might be, that would accomplish the object 



I 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFOENIA. 425 

sought for. So, it must be my own fault if I do not reach the 
summit of villainy in my coming career. They do not think that 
I know my father's history ; but I do, and I recollect his dark, 
villainous look, too, as he used to drag my mother around the 
room by the hair of her head. Oh, yes; he was a glorious old 
villain, but I will yet throw him in the shade. I will establish 
my headquarters on some island in the Pacific, and I will have 
a fleet of pirate ships under my command, which shall defend 
it, and which shall bring me riches to fill my treasury, and beau- 
tiful women to fill my harem, and the nations of the earth will 
at last be compelled to unite to capture me. Oh ! the name of 
John Cameron Ward Lusk vnll yet be read of in history, for all 
time to come, and my daring exploits will dazzle and draw many 
a boy away from his home to follow in my career. Even Sir 
John shall be proud, for he can boast that his grandson is the 
greatest, the most powerful and most villainous robber in all the 
world over, I shall not change my name, for I do not want to 
rob good Sir John Cameron of the honor of being known as my 
relative." 

As Lusk concluded this picture, he chuckled and laughed 
aloud. "Whenever the Captain or officers were present, he never 
forgot his part during the whole voyage to Sidney. Sir John 
did get such letters as Lusk had asked for sent to the Governor 
of the Colonies, and their influence, together with his own uni- 
formly good conduct, obtained for him many privileges. The labor 
given him was of a light, easy character, and after the first year 
he was allowed perfect freedom for a jDart of each day. He never 
was a minute behind time in returning to his post. To all the 
officers he was polite, submissive, and never spoke except when 
spoken to, nor did he ever forget to look sad and dejected; but 
in his hours of freedom he had no such demeanor or look. Then 
he wore the fierce look of a chained tiger. In every way he 
could, he cultivated the acquaintance of the most desperate of 
the convicts, and had many of them combined in a gang sworn 
to obey him in everything. Among these, the most prominent 
was one Jack Lawson and his two sons, Ike and Mike. Jack 
Lawson was an old, experienced housebreaker, in London, and 
was once in Lusk's father's gang ; and he now often entertained 
the son with the details of the desperate achievements and hair- 
breadth escapes of his father. Jack was caught at last, and was 
transported to the penal colonies, where, after awhile, he was 



426 PIO^'EER TIMES IX CAUFOKXU. 

allowed partial freedom, ^vhiob enabled him to acquire some lit- 
tle property and money. This enabled him to send for his two 
sons, and their little sister, Lizzie, then eight years of age. The 
little girl he placed at a respectable boarding-school, where he 
paid all her bills promptly. She was now seventeen yeai-s of 
age, remjiikably good-looking, and an intelligent girl. The 
father and brothers were very proud and very fond of her. 

The gold discoveries in California had determined the Lawsons 
to emigrate to that country as soon as the father could make his 
escape easily. As a preliminary move, tbey confided Lizzie to a 
i-espectable family, who were going to Sau Francisco, with the 
understanding that she was to remain with them until called for 
by the father or either of the sons. About this time Jack re- 
ported to Lusk the arrival in port of an English Ixu-k, the Blue 
Bell, with a very suspicious looking Captain and a villainous 
looking crew, made up of all nationalities, but mostly of mulat- 
toes and blacks from the Island of Jamaica. The Captain was a 
mulatto himself. He was a tall, ptowerful fellow, with a dark, 
fierce eye. He spoke English, Spanish and French, as if each 
was his native tongue; but, outside of that, his education was 
limited, scarcely enough to enable him to navigate his vessel, 
and he, therefore, took good care alwa^•s to have a pretty well 
educated first officer. Lusk told his confederate, Jack, to study 
up this Captain as well as he could, and report to him. The next 
day Jack brought the news that the Captain of the Blue Bell 
wanted some writing done, for which he was willing to pay well, 
and that he had told him of Lusk, and that the Captain had 
agreed to an interview, at a hotel near to where they then stood 
at that hour. Lusk lost no time in accompanying Jack to the 
Captiiin's room. On being introduced to each other, their eyes 
met in a steady, unliiuching gaze for an instant In that gaze 
Lusk found nothing that made him fear the Captain; no, the 
feeling that ran through him was rather one of contempt, as ho 
sjiid to himself: 

" I can handle that chap easily enough." 

The feeling that struck the Captain w{\s the consciousness 
that in the man before him he had met his match in everything, 
and far over his match in villainy, aud an undefined fear for a 
moment held him silent. Lusk threw himself into a chair in a 
careless way, saying: 



PIONEER TIMES IX C.AXIFORXU. 427 

" My friend tells me. Captain, that 3-011 want some writing 
done. Can I be of any service to you ?" 

"Yes; if you are skilled in the pen, and do not give yourself 
the trouble to talk about other people's business when you are 
paid to hold your tongue." 

"Well put in. Captain; I understand you, and you can de- 
pend on me, for I know a way you can oblige me more than I can 
repay you by doing this writing, whatever it may be, and for 
holding my tongue also." 

The Captain bowed, and, without further ceremony, told Lusk 
that he wanted a full set of American papers made out for his 
ship, " as it was," he said, in a careless way, " convenient for 
him to sail sometimes under American colors, and, in case he was 
overhauled, he wanted to be found all right, you know." 

Lusk said " the idea was a first-rate one," and agreed to go to 
the Custom House and get a look at some American ship's papers, 
and copy them exactly. The name of the bark in the American 
papers was to be the " Eagle, of New York, Jones, master." 

Lusk appeaivd the following Sunday, that being the day 
agi"eed upon to meet agTiin, A\~ith a beautifully executecl set of 
papers for the " Bark E-vgle, of New York, Jones, master.' 

" Why, you are skillful with the pen, sure enough," excLiimed 
the Captain. 

" Yes," said Lusk, while a smiled curled on his lips; " and it 
was that skill that brought me to this cursed colony." 

" Aye, surely; I now remember to have heard of that little cir- 
cumstance," said the Captain, laughing. "Well, how can I 
oblige you, Mr. Lusk, for all this work, and for j'our silence also, 
you know?" 

" Simply by taking me into your employment." 

" Aye, Mr. Lusk; but you know there is risk about that." 

" I know," said Lusk, carelessly; " but not much, and if that 
and much more could not be accomplished by you and myself 
when we put our heads together, in a littJe matter of business, 
you are not fit to be Captain of the enterprising little crowd you 
have on board the Blue Bell ; nor am I fit to enter intoyourem- 
plo>Tnent.'' 

"You seem to undei-stand the sort of trade the Blue Bell is 
destined for, Mr. Lusk," said the Captain, in the same tone Lusk 
had spoken in. 



428 PIONEER TBIES IN CALIFORNIA. 

"Perfectly, my dear Captain ; I dreamed of you before you 
came here ; I longed to be in your service. My profession, you 
know, bids me take to the sea as my battle-field, for I have an 
account to settle with " society " which I am most anxious to 
square up. There is a glorious chance for a beginning on the 
coast, between Panama and San Francisco. Look there, my 
dear fellow," said he, drawing from his pocket a copy of the 
Alta- California, a newspaper of San Francisco, dated February, 
1850, and pointing to a paragraph which was a summary of the 
amount of gold shipped within the last three months, via Pana- 
ma. As the Captain perused the paragraph, Lusk continued : 
" Any one of these shipments would make a nice beginning for 
you and for those under your command." 

"What can a sailing vessel do with a steamer, and that steamer 
full of armed Yankees, who would rather fight than eat if they 
had a choice?" 

' ' Throw yourself in the track of the steamer and joretend to 
be in distress until you get your guns bearing right on her 
broadside; then demand submission or sink her. Let the 
passengers be ever so brave, they will be all unprepared and 
will be incumbered, moreover, with a crowd of women and 
children. Just to show them that you mean business, send a 
shot or two through their upper works, and, my head for it, she 
will hand out the treasure. Yes, Captain; put fifty first-class 
men on your deck, and to capture three, at least, of those 
steamers, one after the other, is just no trick at all. After that, 
the coast might be a little too hot for us, and we would have to 
run out of the way for a few months; that is all." 

" I confess," said the Captain, " that your plan looks well, but 
can we get the additional crew here of the right stamp of men ?" 

" I have twenty such, bound to follow my fortunes to the end 
of the world, and we can easily plan a way of getting them on 
board the Blue Bell some dark night after she is ready for 
sea." 

The Captain remained in thought for a minute or two, and 
then said : 

" What position, Mr. Lusk, would you expect on board my 
ship in the event of my accej)ting your offer?" 

" First mate," promptly answered Lusk. 

" Well, if everything else fits, that will not be hard to give 



tlONEER TIMES IN CALIEORl^. 429 

you, as we lost our first mate overboard in a storm just before 
reaching port, and have not yet supplied his place; so to-morrow 
I will meet you here and either close with you or decline j'our 
proposition, for I must consult with my crew." 

The next day CajDtain Sam Jackson, of the bark Blue Bell, 
met Lusk and accepted his joroposition. In ten days from that 
day, Lusk, by a special favor, got two days' leave of absence, 
and when they had expired he did not return to his post, for he 
was far out at sea, with his Sydney recruits, on board the Blue 
Bell, almost all of whom were escaped convicts, under the com- 
mand of Captain Sam Jackson. 



CHAPTER V. 



ESCAPE — CAPTUBE OF A CHILEAN VESSEL — THE FIGHT. 

The escape of Lusk and his men, as related in the last chap- 
ter, was not such a difficult feat to perform, for in those days the 
Australian authorities seemed to connive at convicts escaping, 
provided they went to California and not to England. The Blue 
Bell was English-built, bvit on the American model. Her masts 
raked; she was clipper- rigged, and evidently a remarkably fine 
sailer. They had fifty able-bodied men on board, four brass 
cannon, and were well provided with ammunition and small arms. 
Every calm day Lusk drilled the men, both in the use of the 
guns, and also of the sword and revolver. He showed such su- 
perior knowledge, not only in gunnery, but in all that related to 
navigation, that, naturally, the crew began to look up to him as 
the real leader, and to scarcely notice the Captain. The Captain 
was quick to observe this, and he began to fear and hate his first 
officer. To counteract the current he plainly saw seizing in 
against him, he spoke, privately, to many of his old crew, and 
hinted that they must watch Lusk closely, because he was be- 
ginning to suspect that he was a traitor, and would some day 
sell them all at a price. In this way he secured the loyalty to 
himself of a majority of the crew, and only waited a favorable 
opportunity to rid himself of his rival. Lusk felt his power 
over the crew, and, although he saw the Captain's jealous eye 
often on him with no friendly expression in it, yet he treated this 
jealousy with contempt, privately making up his mind to rid 
himself of the Captain and his favorite followers as soon as he 
could do it safely. So passed the first month at sea, and every 
day it became more and more evident that the Blue Bell could 
not hold two such men as Captain Jackson and Lusk at the same 
time. Each now had his particular friends among the crew, 
warned to keep armed and on the watch. The Sydney convicts 



PIONEER TIMES tN CALIFORNIA. 431 

were all with Lusk, particularly the Lawsons. The intention of 
Cajjtain Jackson, on leaving Sydney, was not to interfere with any 
vessel until after the capture of two or three Panama steamers; 
but now he proposed that they should overhaul the first ship they 
met, "just to keep their hand in and get a little spending 
money." His real object was that he hoped it would give him 
an opportunity of, in some way, getting rid of Lusk, whose 
presence had now become intolerable to him. His plan was to 
give the command of the boarding party, when taking posses- 
sion of the prize, to Lusk, and then abandon him to his fate, 
whatever that might be. To this new proposition of the CajDtain 
Lusk assented readily, because he hoped it might give him some 
. chance of getting rid of Jackson and his friends, although he 
had no particular plan or idea as to how it could bring that 
about. The next day after coming to this understanding, a sail 
was sighted from the look-out on the main topmast. The Blue 
Bell was not long in overhauling her, and they brought her to 
by firing a gun across her bows. She showed Chilean colors 
and now the Blue Bell ran up the terrible black flag and lowered 
two boats, which were soon filled with armed men, under the 
command of Lusk. Captain Jackson supposed that Lusk would 
have chosen his own friends to accompany him; but, instead of 
doing so, he chose the particular friends of the Captain. This 
ended the idea of being able to abandon Lusk, as the Captain 
had resolved to do. The boats pulled off, with a loud shout 
from their savage crews. On reaching the doomed ship, they 
leaped on board, and without mercy shot down every man in 
sight. Lusk and four men quickly descended to the cabin, 
where they found the Chilean Captain supporting a beautiful 
girl and trying to encourage her. Lusk, assuming a mock 
civility, requested the Captain to be good enough to hand out all 
the mouey and valuables on board. Lusk had spoken in Spanish; 
so a momentary hope animated the Captain while he replied : 
"Willingly, sir, if you spare the remaining lives on board." 
" Surely, Captain, you cannot suppose that we would sj^ill 
blood unnecessarily; so please, sir, hand out the money and 
other valuables." 

The Captain now unlocked his safe, and handed out a bag of 
Spanish doubloons to the value of some ten thousand dollars. 
Then he handed out a box of jewelry and considerable silver 
plate. Lusk gave orders for the removal of all this to his boat, 



432 PIOKEEK TIMES IX CALIFOEXLi. 

which being done, he ordered two of his men to conduct the 
beautiful, half- fainting girl also to his boat. She called out: 
" Father! father ! Come ! come !" The Captain attempted to 
follow, but Lusk, with a half-smile, said: " No, no, Captain ; I 
have more business with you yet, sir. "' Then in English he spoke 
to the twu men yet with him, saying: " Lash him fast to that," 
as he pointed to the part of the mast that went through the 
cabin, and continued: '' Then scuttle the vessel, and I will hold 
one of the boats for you until you come." As Lusk reached the 
deck he deliberately fastened down an iron grating over the 
cabin gangway, closing it effectually, and then, walking to the 
two hatchways, he closed them down also, and ran the bars in to 
fasten them. This done, he leaped down the side of the vessel 
into his boat, taking his seat by the side of the captive girl, 
murmuring to himself, as he did so: " There, I am rid of two 
of Jackson's head devils." 

He now held the boat in its place on the pretence that he was 
waiting for the two seamen and the Spanish Captain to make 
theii' appearance. As he sat waiting, he tried to appease the girl 
by assuring her that her father would come very soon. The Chil- 
ean vessel began to fall from side to side; then she staggered 
like a wounded man. At this moment Lusk gave orders to 
" pull away," and it was well for him he did, for in one minute 
more the fated craft had disappeared in the roaring water, and 
Lusk barely saved his boat from being ingulfed with her. The 
girl fainted, and did not come completely to herself until Lusk hxid 
her out of his arms on the deck of the Blue Bell. She now sat 
up, and called wildly for her father. Lusk besought her to calm 
herself, assuring her that the death of her father was an acci- 
dent; but she wept and mourned, and would listen to nothing. 
Captain Jackson now made his appearance, for he had been in 
the cabin, laying away the money and other valuables captured, 
in safety. He walked directly over to where the girl and Lusk 
sat, and for a moment regarded the girl with astonishment and 
evident admiration. Then, suddenly turning to Lusk, he said, 
in English : 

" I thank you for bringing me this girl, Mr. Lusk. I will 
treat her well. She shall be our queen, you know, and all 
shall respect her. After a few days, she will become satisfied 
with her new position; so come, let us conduct her to my state- 
room, where she can take some rest. I will manage the thing by 
degrees, you know." 



tlOXEEK TIMES IX CALTFOKXIA. 4SS 

*'Tou are mistaken, Captain," said Lusk, in a voice in which 
there was not tb'3 least excitement. " I did not bring- the girl for 
ijou; I brouj]fht her for myself ; and, what is more, I am going to 
keep her for myself." 

The Captain grew red, then pale with rage, and, drawing his 
revolver, he leveled it at Lusk's head, saying : 

" Dog, do you undertake to disobey your Captain ? Rise, sir, 
instantly, and take that girl to my stateroom, or you are a dead 
man." 

Lusk, continuing without the least show of excitement, arose 
slowly to his feet; but the instant he was erect, with a motion as 
quick as that of a wildcat, he knocked the pistol out of the 
Captain's hand, and grasped him by the throat with the gi-ip of 
a vise. The whole crew now flew to the scene of the struggle. 
Some fought for Jackson, some fought for Lusk. A blow from 
some one loosened Lusk's hold on the Captain, who now called 
out: 

" Overboard with every Sidney convict!" 

'^ Down with the accursed negro and his band!" called out half 
a dozen voices on Lusk's side. 

Now hand to hand they fought with the ferocity of fiends. 
Now Jackson falls, and the Jamaicans give way and fly down the 
hatchway. Lusk, with scarce a scratch, stands on the deck vic- 
torious, with all that are alive of his friends around him. Thirty 
men lay on the deck dead or dying, and Captain Jackson among 
them. The first thing Lusk did was to order the hatchway 
closed down. This done, he turned to look for the poor girl who 
was the immediate cause of the fight. She was lying motionless 
on her face and hands. Ho walked hurriedly to her, and, rais- 
ing her, found she was perfectly dead. A stray bullet had passed 
through her body, and sent her to her God. Her prayer was 
heard, which she had never ceased to repeat after leaving her 
father, imploring God to take her out of the hands of the 
pirates, and it was a merciful deliverance from the terrible fate 
that theateued her. When Lusk saw she was dead, he turned 
away, apparently unconcerned. Jack Lawson looked at her. 
Perhaps a thought of his own handsome child crossed his mind, 
for he paused a moment in thought, while a sad expression 
passed over his rough features. Then he turned away, but soon 
returned with Mike, his son, bringing a new piece of canvas and 

a heavy gun shot. As thev both now arranged the beautiful 
28 ' 



434 PIONEEE TIMES IN CALIFORNiA. 

form of the dead girl in the canvas, with the bullet at her feet, 
all their actions betokened respect and tenderness. 

" Yes," murmured the old man; " I do this for Lizzie's sake." 

Soon the canvas was sewed up, and now they lift her gently 
over the side of the vessel, and slowly let her drop into the ter- 
rible dark deep, that so reminds us of eternity. While Jack 
and his son were thus engaged, Lusk was sujDerintending the 
clearing of the deck of the dead and wounded. The dead and 
the wounded both, of those who fell on the Captain's side in the 
fight, he ordered overboard as fast as a gun shot could be fas- 
tened to each. When he came to Jackson's body, he said, laugh- 
ing: 

" Put a double shot on that old rascal; I want him to go be- 
yond the sound of Gabriel's trumpet." 

His own dead friends were disposed of with hardly more show 
of feeling, the only difference being that two men who were 
badly wounded, on his side, were proj^erly cared for. The deck 
now being cleared, the hatchways were thrown open, and the re- 
mainder of Jackson's men were decoyed on deck with fair 
promises; but, the moment they were in his power, he ordered 
them bound hand and foot, and, with a shot fastened to their 
necks, hurried them overboard, sparing only a boy of fifteen 
years old, who was always afterwards known among the crew as 
" Johnny Lucky." This boy was particularly attached after- 
wards to the Lawsons, as it was through Jack's interference he 
had been spared. 

That evening Lusk seemed silent and thoughtful. Early the 
nest morning he assembled his men; got a formal vote from 
them declaring him their Captain, and Jack Lawson their first 
mate. Then he proposed that they should, for the present, as- 
sume the appearance of peaceful traders, stow away their guns 
and hide all appearance of being armed; then run to one of the 
Pacific islands, and take on board a deck load of hogs. These 
were easily to be had, he said, and were reported to be very 
scarce in California. Then, after they had procured the cargo, 
he proposed they should sail directly for San Francisco. Their 
crew was so small now that, of course, the attempt to overhaul 
a Panama steamer was out of the question until they had more 
men. He then represented to his crew that in San Francisco 
the people were completely off their guard, as hardly any thieves 



n\ 



PI6NEER TIMES IX CALIEOKXIA. 435 

had made their appearance there as yet, and that it -would, 
therefore, be no trick at all to pick up a hundred thousand or so 
before the Yankees would realize that gentlemen of their talents 
were among them. All he said was approved of by the crew, 
to whom he now administered a solemn oath of obedience to 
himself. After this all worked to a charm. Lusk felt as though 
his career had fairly commenced, and was most zealous in attend- 
ing to all his duties, and disciplining his men. He announced 
to his crew that while among the Americans he was to be known 
simply as " Captain John "Ward," dropping for the present his 
other two names. 

They succeeded in getting a fine cargo of hogs, and had a 
prosperous run to San Francisco, where they dropped anchor in 
May, 1850. The hogs were easily sold at a large profit. Cap- 
tain Ward then moved his vessel to a safe anchorage near Sau- 
celito, in Richardson's Bay, and took all his valuables on shore, 
and buried them in a little grove of oaks that grew on a promon- 
tory half a mile or more east of the famous watering place for 
ships in those days. This promontory was known afterwards for 
a long time as " Pirates' Point." Leaving a disabled seaman on 
board as shipkeeper, all prepared to go on shore. Before sep- 
arating, "Ward gave each of his men $500. A place of meeting 
was agreed on, where they were all to assemble one week from 
that day. On reaching the shore, JackLawson accompanied the 
Captain to Burgoyne & Co. 's bank, where thej deposited the re- 
mainder of the money on hand in Ward's name. Jack then 
asked the Captain to help him to find his daughter, Lizzie, and 
he, having nothing in particular to do, accepted the invitation. 
After a little inquiry, they found hev with the family with whom 
she had come from Australia. Lizzie was overjoyed to see her 
father so much sooner than she expected. Jack introduced Cap- 
tain Ward to her, who seemed very much pleased with her, and 
they all three remained laughing and talking together for a long 
time. On leaving, the Captain asked Lizzie to go to the theater 
with him that evening. Her father approved of her going, so 
she accepted the invitation, and the unfortunate father went 
away much pleased. Lizzie was not what could be called beau- 
tiful by any means, but she was a well-formed English girl, in 
vigorous health, with the beauty that youth and health bestow. 
She was very genteel- looking, considering her origin; had a 



436 • PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 

good, plain education, and a merry, light heart, for she knew 
nothing of the real character of her father and brothers. Both 
of her brothers called to see her later in the day, and when they 
heard of Captain "Ward's invitation they started and looked at 
each other in half- alarm; then Ike said : 

" Lizzie, if father said so, I suppose you must go; but don't 
go in a hurry again, and look out for the Captain." 

" Well," said Lizzie; " if j^ou think that way, I will get him 
to take a lady friend of mine with us." 

" Yes; that will do," Ike said. And the brothers left. As they 
gained the street, one of them said : 

" If harm comes to Lizzie, it were better for the Captain, a 
thousand times, if he had never been born." 

The Captain came that evening, and found himself compelled 
to invite Lizzie's friend. He saw through her caution, and it 
aroused in him a determination to triumph over such precau- 
tions. From day to day he visited her, but she was always 
on her guard, and he grew half-angry with himself for his want 
of success. He now assumed the bearing towards her of a re- 
spectful, devoted lover. He made her valuable presents, of 
which she told her father, and he was pleased, and praised the 
Captain, as he believed him really in love Avith Lizzie. The 
same caution always pervaded Lizzie's intercourse with "Ward, 
and he attributed this to the influence of the lady with Avhom 
she lived; so he induced her father to change her boarding-house 
to a fashionable one, at that time kept by a Miss Scott, a highly 
respectable maiden lady from New York. Here the Captain con- 
tinued his devoted attention, and seemed better pleased with his 
progress, as now Lizzie showed a greater taste for dress, and 
sometimes accepted an invitation from him to go to the theater. 
During these summer months of 1850, "Ward had fully organized 
his band of house-breakers and robbers, and every day the jieople 
were startled with announcements of a new and daring robbery, 
or murder and robbery, both. Ward was one of the most active 
men in trying to ferret out the jDerpetrators, but of course never 
succeeded. For a long time the place of " rendezvous" of 
"Ward's gang was a set of poor little ricket}' buildings that Rob- 
ert Wells «& Co. had built on about the line of Stockton street, 
on the southwest side of Telegraph Hill, not far from the old 
Pioneer grave-yard. They were painted lead color, or bluish. 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 437 

These buildings were so poorly constructed that the prevailing 
wind of that district always raked through them, so that no one 
cared to occupy them. Ward chose them for his headquarters 
because they were in a lonesome, out-of-the-way spot. One of 
"Ward's movements was to put himself in communication with the 
leading spirits of the Mexican gang of robbers and murderers, 
whose operations were mostly conducted in the lonesome roads 
approaching the larger towns of the State. His intimacy with 
the Americans enabled him to give the Mexicans such informa- 
tion as they required, to enable them to carry on their villainous 
business with profit, in which he, of course, shared. It was in 
this way two young men of the name of Gary were decoyed 
south of San Juan, in Monterey county, and murdered and 
robbed, with shocking brutality, and many others, whose fate to 
this day is wrapped in mystery. Ward augmented his band by 
recruits from among the " Sydney coves," as the English convict 
immigrants were universally called in San Francisco at that time. 
His band is said to have numbered between forty and fift}' when 
in its highest success, and to have had some women members; at 
least, it came to light that in some of the most daring robberies, 
women had taken a part; but it may have been that in these 
cases the women were onlj^ tools in the hands of individual 
members of the gang. Among Ward's new recruits was a well- 
educated young man, calling himself Frederick Brown, and 
who generally passed himself off as an American or a Canadian, 
but who, in fact, was an escaped convict from Australia, where 
he had been sent on conviction of an infamous crime. Brown 
had been for six months in the northern mines, but was not for- 
tunate, and was now back in San Francisco " broke," when he 
fell in with Ward, who recollected having seen him when a con- 
vict in Australia. They were soon fast friends, and, on entering 
the gang. Brown assumed the position of scribe, or secretary, at 
their meetings, and he acted in the same capacity for individual 
members who wished to write letters to their friends in England. 
Ward feared to let his gang go too fast, as the j)eople of San 
Francisco began to get very restive under his terrible, systemat- 
ically-conducted robberies, and he feared the rising of the whole 
people, en masse, in an effort to protect themselves. He had no 
fear of the authorities, for he knew they were busily engaged in 
their own little game of robbing the city treasury, and fleecing 



438 PIONEER TI'MES IX CALIEORNIA 

tJie city of her real estate. Taking this view of the matter, Ward 
gave orders to suspend operations in the city for a time, and, 
announced to his followers that he would himself take this op- 
portunity of visiting the lai'ge towns in the State, and the min- 
ing regions in general, to see what could be done in that direc- 
tion, as soon as it would be safe for them to renew their work. 
So, leaving San Francisco a season of quiet. Captain "Ward and 
his friend Brown departed for the city of Sacramento. 



CH^VPTER VI. 

NEWS FROM WALTEK — MRS. LIGHTHEAD 

For seven long months aftei* the ship sailed awa}- from the 
port of New York with Walter on boai'd, things progressed in 
the Wagner family just as they had done ever since the father 
met the terrible accident, except that Walter was not there to 
read for them in the evening. To pass this oft', Minnie's tongue 
ran on with incessant talking, asking questions, and getting her 
mother to relate stories of the Irish patriots, and their often nar- 
row escapes from the minions of English power. Then, as her 
father gained strength, she Avould get him to tell them some 
stories of the American revolution he had heard his father re- 
late. So ^Minnie, in her eftorts to direct her parents' thoughts 
from the sad loss of Walter's company, made herself happy. 
After the third month, the father sat up for a few hours each day; 
hut the broken bones did not seem to mend as they should, for 
he was yet unable to use his lower limbs. He gradually wasted 
away to a perfect skeleton, and plainly observed that his end was 
near; but he was calm and satistied, as he was very religious. 
One day, in the last of the seventh month of Walter's absence, 
there was a knock at the door. Minnie arose from her work on 
the shirts, and went to answer the knock. On opening the door, 
there stood Mr. Eoman's clerk, holding out a letter to her. She 
knew the handwriting. It was Walter's. She gave a half-scream, 
but could not take the letter or move from the spot where she 
stood. The clerk understood her perfectly, and said: 

" Don't be afraid, Miss Minnie. Yom- brother is in San Fran- 
cisco safe and well, and doing well." 

" Thank God !" exclaimed the mother, who had nished to the 
door on hearing Minnie's ciy. 

We will not follow mother and daughter back to the little sit- 
ting room, where the father lies sick in bed, or attempt to de- 
scribe a scene we should not be present at. No; let us close the 



440 PIOI^EEK TIMES IN CALlr'ORNU. 

door, and walk away with Mr, Eoman's clerk, content to enjoy in 
imagination all the great hapj)iness brought to these dear, good 
people in "Walter's first letter. From this daj^ forward every 
steamer arrival, without fail, brought a letter from Walter. 
Sometimes long and sometimes shorf, just as he could command 
time, and always a draft, small or largo, was inclosed "to help to 
drive shirt-making from the house," as Walter expressed it. 
Minnie entered heart and soul into all Walter's schemes for 
making money, as related in his letters. As he wrote home of 
each new plan, her hopes went up to the highest pitch. Then, as 
he announced his failure, her heart sank ; but it was soon, like 
Walter's own, up again, and once more buoyant with the bright- 
est anticipations. Often and often, after reading one of his let- 
ters, filled with some new project, she would be so excited all 
day that she could not eat or sleep at night ; or, if her eyes did 
close, she was in dreams by Walter's side, digging out gold by 
the panful at a time. The Wagners no longer took in shirts to 
make, and this was a sort of heaven in itself. Mrs. Wagner's 
health improved, but the poor husband gradually wasted away, 
in spite of every e£fort in his behalf, until at length he left them. 
He was perfectly resigned, and died blessing God for all his 
mercies, but particularly for the great comforts granted to him 
through his wife and children in his last long sickness. He sent 
his blessing with a long message to Walter, committing to his 
care his darling mother and Minnie. Sad was Minnie's letter 
conveying this news to poor Walter, who for a time was com- 
pletely unmanned by it. But the new responsibility thrown ou 
him aroused him to his usual activity and untiring exertion. A 
little after this, Minnie received the letter from Walter giving 
her the particulars of his partnership with Isaac Hilton, in High 
Canyon, near Downieville. The greatest longing seized her mind 
to go and join Walter at his place of business. 

" Yes," she said; " I see clearly where Walter fails. He will 
not persevere in one line of business. If I was near him, I 
could influence him in this respect, and that would be of a great 
advantage, for I feel certain that if he only would remain in his 
present location with this Mr. Hilton, he would be rich very 
soon." Then, after further reflection, she would run on: " After 
I was fairly settled, we could send for mother ; then we would 
all be together. Oh ! would not that be heavenly ?" 

Minnie had that dav heard of a California grass widow who 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 441 

was to go to her husband in San Francisco; so she could resist 
no longer telling her mother her thoughts. To her surprise, 
her mother thought the plan a good one, and tha,t Minnie's in- 
fluence over Walter would correct what was apparently his only 
fault. Uncle John was now consulted, and, after due consider- 
ation, he, too, advocated the plan. "When alone -^ith his sister- 
in-law, he said: 

" Not so much for the reasons you and Minnie give, but that I 
favor every woman who has a husband, father or brother in 
California going there. It will help to keep society out there 
from growing wild, and will aid the good and the brave, who 
are striving to build up an American State on the Pacific side of 
the mountains, in their good work. A girl like her is worth 
more to California just at this time than fifty men would be; 
and, for my part, I am disgusted at the ■way women are holding 
back, though in many cases it is undoubtedly the fault of the 
men. So, I say, let Minnie go, and you, Ann, can rent the cot- 
tage to some one, and live with me; or I will take the cottage, 
as my lease where I am will soon expire, and you and I can 
settle in regard to rent and board between us. In this respect, 
do just as you choose yourself." 

" Oh, John, I will take your last offer, for that is just what 
will suit me in every way." 

And so it was arranged, 

Minnie's heart is now leaping within her with almost wild 
excitement. A new life is opened to her view. She loves Cali- 
fornia already. She knows it all over; for has she not read 
every scrap of history that has lately been jiublished in regard 
to it? And has she not read, and almost studied, the San 
Francisco newspapers which Mr. Roman has been kind enough 
to lend to her ? Has she not, in imagination, gone through all 
Walter's enterprises with him, spurring him on when success 
seemed sure; then arousing him, when defeat came, to renewed 
efforts to conquer fortune ? Yes; all this is so. And now in 
this new enterprise that Walter has just written to her about 
she is to be his helpmate, right by his side, in reality, and not 
in imagination, as heretofore. She saw no danger before her. 
The journey seemed as nothing. Minnie had heard of many 
sad disappointments in families where the head had gone to Cali- 
fornia, and of many a letter in a stranger's handwriting having 
come to hopeful friends, announcing the sad news that he 



442 PIONEER TIMES IN CALIEORNIA. 

whose life was all in all to them lay buried in some lonesome 
little spot away, far away, in California's rugged mountains. 
But, vindaunted, she now turns her face to the setting sun, and 
never thought of looking back or hesitating. Uncle John soon 
found an escort for Minnie in a Mrs. Lighthead, who was going 
in the next steamer but one to San Francisco to join her hus- 
band, who was residing there. This lady was represented to 
him as the wife of a worthy and good man, so he supposed she 
was all right, and was glad when Mrs. Lighthead agreed to take 
Minnie under her charge as far as San Francisco. Uncle John 
then went to the office of the steamship company, and secured a 
berth for Minnie in the same stateroom as her escort. By the 
mail just leaving for California, Minnie wrote to Walter that she 
would follow the letter in the next steamer, and that he must be 
sure to meet her in San Francisco. At the same time she gave 
him all the reasons for this sudden move. She knew Walter 
would be overjoyed to hear what she wrote him. It afterwards 
turned out that Walter never got this letter. It was lost, most 
likely somewhere between San Francisco and Downieville, and 
Walter therefore remained in perfect ignorance of Minnie's 
movements. The appointed day came, and Minnie found her- 
self seated near her escort on the deck of the Panama steamer, 
as it dashed out of New York harbor, and taking her out of sight 
of the dear old hills of her native State, and of every locality that 
was dear to her in childhood. But Minnie was not one to mourn 
over the past. No ; her young heart was full of the future. 
It was all a gorgeous panorama to her vision, made only more 
charming because there were some difficulties to surmount, some 
shadows on the picture for her to work at, and strive to clear 
away. 

Minnie now took a good look at her escort as she entered into 
conversation with her. She was anxious to ascertain with what 
sort of a companion chance had thrown her, where all were 
strangers to her. Miss Lighthead was rather a good-looking 
lady, of about thirty years of age. Minnie was surprised to see 
her very richly dressed; which she thought looked quite out of 
place on an occasion like this. Besides a handsome silk dress, 
she wore showy diamond ear-rings, a breastpin, and two large 
diamond rings on her fingers, and a gold watch, with a bunch of 
showy charms ; but the most conspicuous ornament, if ornament 
you could call it, was a heavy gold watch chain. It was of the 






PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 443 

regular ox-chain pattern, but very large : each link had at least 
twenty dollars worth of gold in it. Such chains were often seen 
in California at that time, but mostly about the necks of fancy 
stage-drivers, horsemen and such people. Minnie's natural good 
taste, which was always conspicuous in her own way of dressing, 
shrunk from all this sort of display. 

" There is a time for all things," she thought to herself, " but 
surely this is not the time or place for that dress or those orna- 
ments. I am afraid I have a miserable companion for my voyage, 
but I will do the best I can." 

The passengers were mostly putting their staterooms in order, 
and all, with a little anxiety, were trying to find out what sort 
of companions chance gave them for room-mates. So there were 
but few on deck, and those that were there seemed buried and 
lost in their thoughts, looking sad and lonesome. Minnie made 
some casual remark by way of opening the conversation, which 
Mrs. Lighthead did not notice, but said : 

" So far I do not see many nice people on board. A lady friend 
of mine who has just returned from California, Avhere her hus- 
band is very rich, told me I would find ever so many nice gen- 
tlemen and handsomely dressed ladies on board the steamers." 

"A lady returned from California, did you say, Mrs. Light- 
head?" 

" Oh, yes; she went out there, but only staid one month. San 
Francisco, she says, is a horrible windy, sandy place, entirely 
unfit for rich people, who have the means, you know, my dear, 
to enjoy themselves." 

Here Mrs. Lighthead gave a toss of her head that shook her 
ear-rings, while she wound a foot or so of her ox chain around 
her hand. 

" But her husband is in San Francisco, you say?" 

"Oh, yes, her husband is there; but what of that? He can 
send her money and she can enjoy herself so much better at 
home." 

Minnie now felt a sort of cold, creeping sensation pass through 
her, as though a snake had drawn its slimy form across her feet, 
and that as in a dream she could not get away; but, recovering 
herself, she said : 

"But you are going to San Francisco to live, Mrs. Light- 
head ?" 

" Oh, I am going there, but as to my staying there, that de- 



4M PIONEER TIMES IN C.VLIFOKNIA. 

pends on how I like it. My husband has gone through terrible 
privations to make his money, and you may be sure I will live 
where I can enjoy it the most; and then this lady friend of mine 
I spoke of, said the trip out there and back would be a most en- 
joyable way of passing time. There were, she said, so many 
dashing beaux always on board the steamers." 

Here Mrs. Lighthead fixed her dress and arranged her hat, as 
she continued, while looking all around : 

" Though, I confess, I have not seen one yet." 

" Where is your little boy, Mrs. Lighthead? I understood 
your uncle to say that you had a beautiful, intelligent boy, six 
years old, and I promised myself great pleasure with him in help- 
ing you to take care of him, and in watching his movements 
among the passengers and sailors. We could so enjoy his as- 
tonishment at everything so new to him." 

"Where is he?" said Mrs. Lighthead, in a half-angry, sur- 
prised tone of voice. "Why, of course, he is safe with his 
grandmother, on Long Island. I thought the child would go 
into convulsions, he roared so when I left him; but he will soon 
get over that, and I was not such a fool as to tag a boy to Cali- 
fornia with me. I know I won't stay there, and if I do there 
will be plenty of time to send for him." 

Minnie now began to get an insight into the true character of 
her companion, and it was with a feeling of deep disappointment 
and almost disgust that she continued the conversation, saying : 

" But will not his father be expecting him ?" 

" Oh, yes ; he is a perfect fool about the child, and I took 
care not to tell him I was going to leave him behind. He would 
have made such a fuss about it, and perhaps I would have had 
to bring him, and that would have just spoiled all my pleasure, 
and you know it makes one look so old to be showing off a boy 
of six. No, indeed ; my husband has made money, and I am 
going to enjoy it while I can. " 

" How long has your husband been in California, Mrs. Light- 
head ?" 

" Oh, he went there early in forty-nine, and had, he says, a 
terrible lonesome time of it, boarding around in ill-kept restau- 
rants and coffee-houses, and at night forced to lie down in 
a bed not fit for a Christian to sleep on. When he went to Cali- 
fornia he wanted me to go with him, and has been writing to me 
ever since to induce me to come and bring little Willie with me ; 



tlONEEB TIMES IN CALTFORNIA. 445 

promising" a nice little home for us, all fixed up comfortably', 
and all that sort of talk. But be sent me plenty of money, and I 
had just as good a thing as I wanted; so I positively refused to 
go until now. I supjiose he will have some sort of a cottage or 
shanty all ready to receive me, but I rather think he will find 
himself mistaken in thinking that I will stay out there long, for 
it is not in my nature to endure discomforts; and then what are 
men for," she ran on, growing warm on the subject, " if not to 
provide their wives with the comforts of life. I think that is 
their business, and that we women should insist on it." 

Seeing that Minnie gave no apparent assent to this proposi- 
tion, she concluded with: "Well, it is my view, anyway, and 
is the view, too, taken by most of the California widows; and I 
have just a perfect pity and contempt for those wives who went 
in forty-nine, with their love-sick, romantic notions or ' stand- 
ing by their husbands in Iheir trials and privations,' and worry- 
ing themselves to death out there watching and taking care of 
men, as though God meant women to have any hard work or 
particular business to do in this world." 

How Minnie's blood boiled in her veins, in indignation at the 
low, degraded sjDhere this woman claimed for the whole sex. 
Her thoughts flashed back on the beautiful life of her own 
mother, and a flash of pride lit up her bright eyes, as, in an in- 
stant, she reviewed it, and her own short life, and could find 
nothing in either to justify a belief in such an idea, as that God 
had not made women for just as high and important a sphere of 
duties as he had .men, even if the duties were to be totally of a 
diflerent character. She was about to reply to Mrs. Lighthead, 
but she checked herself, saying in her own mind: " This woman 
could never comj)rehend my views, so let her go. I j)ity her 
poor husband. Oh, how he will feel when he finds his little 
Willie was left screaming behind. Oh, this creature of a woman 
is a sort of relation, I think, of the Russian woman, who, to save 
her own life, threw her children, one by one, to the wolves pur- 
suing her ! Whenever I see a mother neglect her child through 
selfishness, I somehow think of that Russian monster." 

The wind was now blowing fresh and cold, and Mrs. Lightlxead 
exclaimed : 

" Miss Wagner, I do believe I am getting a little sick; sup- 
pose we go to our stateroom?" 

Minnie was glad enough to end the conversation with her es- 



4:46 HONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 

cort, and followed her to the stateroom, bitterly disappointed in 
her character, as disclosed by this first conversation. They both 
proved good sailors, and suffered very little from sea-sickness, 
either that night or afterwards. The next day came calm and 
beautiful, and most of the passengers were on deck. 

When Mrs. Lighthead and Minnie were seated near each 
other, as on the day before, Mrs. Lighthead seemed to regard 
Minnie very closely for some minutes; then, assuming a patron- 
izing, motherly sort of a tone, said: 

" My dear, you are very, very, handsome; which, of course, 
vou know; for we all know when we are very handsome, though 
we don't pretend to know it, for it makes a better impression on 
others not to appear to know it. Now, for instance, it would be 
foolish in me to deny, just here between ourselves, that I am 
very handsome, yet I pretend not to know it. But, as I was 
saying, you are very handsome, and of course you are going to 
California just to make your market; in other words, to get a 
rich husband." 

Minnie could not help firing up at this coarse address, so she 
broke in: 

"I assure you, Mrs. Lighthead, you never were more mis- 
taken in your life. I have no consciousness of this beauty you 
talk of, and I am going to California to keep house for my 
brother, and I never thought of such a mean thing as that you 
speak of." 

" 3Iean, child! There is nothing mean about it." 

"I think there is, Mrs. Lighthead, and I assure you that you 
do me a great injustice." 

"Injustice, child! Why, I accuse you of nothing that is 
wrong. What is there that is wrong in getting a rich husband ? 
Nothing whatever; but much that is commendable, for it is on 
riches, after all, that we are to depend for everything good in 
this world. It is better than education, though that is, of course, 
necessary to a limited extent. It is better than intelligence, for 
who cares for an intelligent person if he is not rich ? It is 
even better than beauty; for, though that is better than either 
education or intelligence, yet riches will bring us more friends 
and pleasures of every sort than either. And then, you know, 
the occasional faults of rich people are overlooked, for every one 
knows that a rich person, either man or woman, is excused, and 
in fact has rights where the poor creatures who have nothing 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNU. 447' 

would be condemned out of hand. So, my dear, don't be ashamed 
of this move of yours to get a rich husband. It is just what you 
should do with that beauty of yours. Put it in the market. 
Yes, put it in the market; and sell it for the highest price. 
Don't mind about age, or good looks, or anything in fact, if you 
are sure the man in I'lch. For if you are obliged to take an old 
fellow, 3'ou can easily hoodwink him and have your quiet little 
fun out of sight; and if you are obliged to take an ill-tempered 
young fellow who has nothing to inspire either your respect or 
love, wh}' take some good opportunity to kick up a fuss with 
him, get a divorce and half his property; then you arc all right, 
and can marry somebody you really like, for there are a great 
many men who prefer divorced women. I have a friend who ia 
suing for a divorce under just these circumstances. She married 
a very rich man who she knew was ill-tempered and a drunk- 
ard. She is making out a beautiful case against him of ill-usage 
and all that sort of thing; and the best of the joke is, that she is 
engaged to be married again to the attorney who is conducting 
her case. Now, my dear," continued Mrs. Lighthead, assuming 
a very important, dignified look, " I have entered into this dis- 
cussion to give you all these hints and advice because I wish you 
well, as Mrs. Roman assured me that your family were very 
worthy people; and you owe it to them, my dear, not to fool 
your beauty away. No, no; be sure you get its full value in 
gold. I have a great tact for drawing gentlemen around me, 
and I will introduce them to you, and it may be that there is 
here on board this steamer some returned Californian who is 
rich and worth looking after; so dress in your best and set oflf 
your good looks to the best advantage, and I will do all I can to 
help you while you are under my charge." 

While Mrs. Lighthead ran on, thus developing her ideas of 
the duties and aims of woman, Minnie's disgust and indignation 
were such that she could hardly listen with common patience, 
for every sentiment of her genuine womanhood was offended. 
However, commanding herself as well as it was possible, she said, 
in a decided, though somewhat tremulous voice: 

" Mrs. Lighthead, let me again assure you that you miscon- 
ceive me altogether. I neither want a rich husband, nor a poor 
one. My brother in California needs my sisterly care and assist- 
ance, and he shall have both as long as they are of any use to 
him; for he is my darling brother, and his success is my success, 



448 PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 

and mine is his; nor shall any claim of another's come to inter- 
fere with this — the sole object of my going to California. Do 
please spare yourself the trouble of introducing me to any one. 
All I ask is to pass unnoticed on this passage to San Francisco, 
where I am to meet my brother." And Minnie could not refrain 
from adding : "I see that your ideas as to the duties of our sex 
are altogether different from those of my mother. According to 
her ideas, our sex have great duties to perform, and we are pe- 
culiarly gifted by God with beauties of person and mind, the 
better to enable us to do those duties; but if you are right, Mrs. 
Lighthead, our sex is low indeed in the scale of creation; yes, 
lower than the beasts that walk the field, for they all do their 
just and equal shares as assigned them; but our half of human- 
ity, according to your view, is only intended to prey on the other 
half. As a belief in this would be too humiliating to me, I will 
retain my mother's views for the joresent, Mrs. Lighthead, with- 
out wishing to be disagreeable to you." 

" Oh, certainly, Miss Wagner; retain your mother's views, 
they are very pretty. " Here Mrs. Lighthead gave a chuckling 
laugh. " You are young yet. You will soon find out for your- 
self, especially out there in California; so we will drop the sub- 
ject." 

Minnie now made an excuse to go below, for the very sight of 
this woman had become intolerable to her. She opened her 
trunk, and, taking out a book, kissed it, saying: 

" Dear little book, you shall be my companion for the rest of 
this trip. You are a thousand times better than that creature 
calling herself a woman and a lady." 

Minnie now read all the time, except during meals. When on 
deck she wore a wide sunshade, which, when her head was bent 
over her book, completely hid her face from view. She sat a lit- 
tle distance from Mrs. Lighthead, and avoided conversation with 
her as much as she could without being rude or giving offense. 
Mrs. Lighthead soon began to draw gentlemen around her, with 
whom she talked and laughed with the familiarity of old ac- 
quaintances. Minnie kept clear of all these persons for some 
time, until one day Mrs. Lighthead walked directly over to 
where she was seated, and said, in an affected sort of a way: 

" Miss Wagner, my dear, Mr. Wild requests the honor of an 
introduction to you." 

Minnie instantly arose, and, stepping a little aside, courtesied 



II 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 449 

in a polite, formal manner, pretending not to see Wild's hand, 
■which he partly extended. This cold, formal politeness rather 
confused Mrs. Lighthead's friend, but he tried to rally, and 
said: 

"You seem very much interested in that book, Miss Wagner. 
Do you never give yourself any time to talk with your friends ?" 

" Really, sir, I have no friends or acquaintances on board the 
steamer, except my escort, Mrs. Lighthead; and I am very much 
interested in this book, so my time passes as pleasantly as I 
could desire." 

She said all this in a cold, reserved way, and remained stand- 
ing; evidently wishing to have it understood that she expected 
Mrs. Lighthead and her friend to move on, and let her resume 
her reading. There was no mistaking her wishes, but Wild 
made another effort. 

" I have been in California, Miss Wagner, and am returning 
there again." 

" Oh, you have ?" she said, in the same cold way, still not offer- 
ing to take her seat. Mrs. Lighthead now grew impatient, and 
said : 

" Let us walk on, Mr. Wild. Miss Wagner, I see, is impatient 
to get at her reading." 

As they passed on, Minnie resumed her reading, letting her 
sunshade hide her face more than ever. As she seemed to read, 
she said to herself: 

" What impudence that woman has, after I told her not to in- 
troduce mo to any of her friends, to bring that vulgar, over- 
dressed fellow and introduce him to me. I fear I am going to 
have trouble. I see the ladies are all avoiding her already, and- 
T think they avoid me, too, because I am under her charge. Yes; 
I am afraid I am going to have trouble." 

The very next day Wild posted himself near her when she sat 
down to read, and tried to enter into conversation with lier; but 
she only answered in monosyllables. He knew she had no pro- 
tector on board, for Mrs. Lighthead was worse than no pro- 
tector, and encouraged him in his obti'usive impudence; so he 
moved up close to her, and said, in a familiar tone : 

" Why are you so cruel. Miss Minnie ? You are too handsome 
to be so cold to a person introduced to you by your escort." 

Minnie started; her blood ran quickly to her face and back 
again, and, without answering a word, she rose from her seat to 



450 PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 

go, when Wild caught her dress, saying : 

" No; don't run away. Listen to what I say." 

She faced straight round towards him; and, while her eyes 
flashed defiance, she said: 

" Take your hand off instantly, or I will call the Captain to 
protect me." 

He let go, and shrank back like a detected thief ; and Minnie 
quickly disappeared towards her stateroom, exclaiming, as she 
threw herself into a chair: 

"What on earth will I do ! I see several nice ladies here. 
Shall I go to that nice, old lady the}' call Mrs. Egbert, and ex- 
plain how I am situated, and ask her j)i'otection ? But if I do 
that, will not this creature I am with be so outrageously mad 
that she may defame and denounce me; and how can I convince 
Mrs. Egbert, in such a way as to make her satisfied to take a de- 
cided stand for me; or shall I go to the Captain and ask his pro- 
tection; but if I do, Mrs. Lighthead may throw out still worse 
insinuations, and I don't know what sort of a man the Cajitain is, 
though I suppose he is a good man? Oh, mother ! Oh, Walter ! 
if you could only be here for ten minutes to direct me !" 

Here Minnie remained in thought for a moment, and now ex- 
claimed: 

"Yes; that will be the most dignified way, and the fairest to 
this woman I am with." 

Just then Mrs. Lighthead entered the stateroom rather ex- 
cited and flushed, so Minnie had now the ojjportunity she 
wanted, and before Mrs. Lighthead had time to speak, she ad- 
dressed her: 

" I am glad, Mrs. Lighthead, that you have come in. I want 
to say to you that that person you introduced to me as Mr. Wild 
has been most intrusively imjoudent to me ever since, and follows 
me from place to place, in attempts to get into conversation, 
when he knows it is disagreeable to me. Now, I appeal to you 
for protection against his advances, for if he persists, I will call 
on the Captain to protect me, if you cannot do it. " 

" You are wrong in this whole business. Miss Wagner. Mr. 
Wild is a very rich man from California. I introduced him to 
you because I saw he was struck Avith your beauty, and I was in 
hopes that you would find him an eligible person to be ac- 
quainted with, you know; and I must say I think you have 
treated me badly and him most shabbily." 



PIONEEK TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 4:51 

"Now, Mrs. Lightbead, I was placed under your charge. I 
would be very sorry to treat you badly, and will not do so; but 
did I not request that jon would not introduce mo to any one — 
rich or poor, man or woman ? I am resolved to be alone on this 
trip, you know, so we may as v/ell understand each other at 
once. So please tell that i:)erson not to intrude on me any more." 

" Well, you are a silly girl, but I see you are as obstinate as 
silly; so have your own way, and I will have mine. My husband, 
is rich, and I am going to enjoy myself. I don't care who turns 
up the whites of their eyes at it." 

Saying the last i^art of the sentence in a defiant tone, she strut- 
ted out of the stateroom. 

After this, Minnie was left to herself for some time'; but Mrs. 
Lighthead became more light every day in her deportment, 
and flirted and romped outrageously with the gentlemen who 
collected around her. She often staid with her company on 
deck late at night, and completely separated herself from Minnie. 
Sometimes boisterous men would follow her to the door of her 
stateroom, and make it most disagreeable to Minnie. However, 
she managed pretty well until she got on the Pacific side, when 
Mrs. Lighthead's conduct became almost openly shameful, and 
often insulting to Minnie. Wild became again troublesome, 
and took the liberty of introducing two or three of his compan- 
ions, who were as intrusive and im^Dudent as himself. Minnie 
was now in the greatest terror, and could not imagine how to 
act. While in this state of mind, one Sunday, she sat all alone 
in a retired little nook on deck. Her prayer-book was open in 
her hands, but was pressed against her forehead so as to cover 
her eyes, from which streaming tears flowed fast. It was the 
first time she had yielded in this way since she left home, and 
now they were tears that came with the earnestness of her sup- 
plication to God for guidance and help. Some one came near 
here . She looked up, and there stood one of the two sisters she 
had often noticed standing or sitting together, and who were 
treated by every one — sailors and all — with good humor, but 
with the utmost respect. They were two Irish working girls, 
making their way to the land of high wages. The one now look- 
ing down on Minnie said, in a gentle, low voice: 

*' You are in trouble, Miss. Can I, or my sister, do anything 
for you ?" 

"Oh, thank you," said Minnie; "J. fear not; but, then, you 



452 PiONEEB TIMES IN CALIFOEXLV. 

look so good and kind, and I suppose you and your sister are 
Catholics like myself, and you are older than I am; so, if your 
sister will come over and sit here with us, I will tell you what my 
trouble is, for I have not one in this ship to speak to; and per- 
haps you could help me." 

So the other sister came, and they now introduced themselves 
as Jane and Maria Sullivan. Minnie told them her name, and 
that she was on her way to her brother in the mines, and how 
it came that she was put under Mrs. Lighthead's charge, and the 
terrible way she was now in; that she feared to go to the Captain 
lest Mrs. Lighthead would misrepresent her; and that, for the 
same reason, she did not go to any of the ladies for advice. 
" So, now, what had I better do, girls?" said Minnie. "Give 
me your advice; for, when I was praying for help, you came to 
me." 

"Indeed, Miss," said Jane, "it is you that could give the 
likes of us advice, and as to the help we could give you, it is 
very little; but we will put our heads together, just as if you 
were one of us, and think of what it is best to do. We — that is, 
Maria and I — knew all the time that you were good, from the 
way we saw you keep away from that lady you have the room 
with; and then we saw you reading from a prayer-book, and 
Maria found it the other day where you had been sitting, and 
then we saw you were a Catholic, and our hearts warmed towards 
you like; and when we saw you crying to-day, all so lonesome by 
yourself, and you so handsome and young, Maria said : ' What a 
pit}'! Go, Jane, and talk to her.' So that is the way. Miss, we 
came to interfere with you." 

"Oh! it is no interference at all. I am most thankful to j'ou; 
I feel better already." And Minnie wiped away all traces of 
tears. " I know God did answer my j^rayers." 

"Well," said Jane; "we know each other now. So let us 
think. What do you say, Maria ?" 

"Well," said Maria; "if I were Miss Minnie here, I would 
never again enter the stateroom of that woman, for I overheard 
some talk between her and the two fellows with the white vests, 
who are always with her; and one of them said: 

" ' I will trap her in the stateroom alone yet, and I will bring 
down her pride. I will run the risk of this brother of hers. 
My six-shooter is as good as his, and has shot a man across the 
table before now ; and she is the handsomest creature I ever saw, 
and shall not escape me, I am determined.' " 



PIONEER TIMES IN C.\LIFORNIA. 453 

Minnie trembled all over, and became as white as a cloth while 
listening to Maria. Then her eyes lit up with a steady, quiet, 
brave light, while she drew from her bosom a silver dirk-knife, 
about four inches long, with a two-edged blade, not more than 
half an inch wide in the widest place. It was of bright, sharp 
steel, and had an ivory handle, with a guard for the hand made 
of silver, so contrived and bent back that it was a support to the 
hand, as well as a protector. It was the well-remembered ladies' 
protection bowie-knife of " forty-nine." The sisters started 
when she showed this little weapon, but Minnie quietly said: 

" Look, girls; my uncle John gave me that when I was leaving 
home, and showed me how to use it; and bade me never use it, ex- 
cept to protect my life or honor; ' and then,' said he, ' as a last 
resort use it, and God will give strength to your arm.' And I 
feel that, in such a case, I would be no coward, and that God 
woutd give strength to my arm." 

As she spoke and was replacing the weapon, the girls both 
fixed their eyes uj)on her with delight and admiration that they 
could not conceal; and Jane, obeying a sudden impulse, reached 
over and kissed her cheek. All three now understood each other 
perfectly. No further explanations were necessary. The only 
question left was, what had they better do ? Jane said: 

"Well, Miss Minnie, how do you think we had better help 
you? We will do anything you say." 

Poor Minnie now became reassured, and as brave as could be, 
lor, as she sat between these two poor Irish girls, she felt that 
she had protectors that insured her safety. After a minute's 
pause, she said: 

" Tell me how you are situated in the second cabin." 

" "Well, Miss, uncomfortable enough. We are to ourselves, of 
course; but we have to dress and undress behind a curtain, and 
every place for a woman in the second cabin is taken up. All 
honest women; but some of them are cross enough, and make 
trouble. I don't see in the world how you could find a place 
there, if that is what you are thinking of. " 

" Yes, Jane; that is what I was thinking of; but, from what 
you say, that will not do, and we must think more." 

Just then Minnie saw the Captain standing some distance from 
where they sat in council, apparently watching them with earnest 
attention, and evident surprise, she suj)posed, at seeing her 
seated between the two Irish girls. In a moment Minnie's mind 
was made up; and, whispering to Jane, she said: 



454 PIONEER TIMES IX CALIFORNIA. 

" Come with me to the Captain." 

Without hesitation, Jane obeyed. A word had never, up to 
this time, passed between Minnie and the Captain, Her uncom- 
mon beauty had often attracted his attention, but, being under 
the charge of such a frivolous woman as Mrs. Lighthead, gave 
him the impression that she must be some runaway girl from a 
respectable family; so, while he admired her beauty, he pitied 
her also, as he supposed her lost; yet her great dignity of con- 
duct and manner puzzled him when he thought at all about the 
matter. Now a new light seemed to strike him, as he saw her 
seated between the Irish girls, evidently taking refuge with 
them. 

" Oh !" said he to himself: " By Heavens ! she is all right, after 
all, or she never would have thrown herself into that Gibraltar. 
Yes; I understand her perfectly now; she has, in that one 
move, checkmated these rascals that were dogging her, rid her- 
self of that worthless woman who had her in charge, established 
herself in the good opinion of every one, and secured a guard of 
honor J with which she could travel in safety all the world over; for, 
whatever they may say of the Irish, justly or unjustly, there is 
none to doubt the pre-eminent chastity of their women, high and 
low, taken as a class; and worthless men are seldom so foolish 
as to undertake the hopeless task of undermining it." 

As soon as the Captain saw Minnie and Jane approaching him, 
he advanced a few steps to meet them; and, raising his hat to 
Minnie, said, with marked respect: 

"Miss Wagner, I believe," and continued, as she bowed in 
assent: " I have not had the pleasure of an introduction, but 
that is unnecessary. So, jplease, young lady, say if I can be of 
any use to you." 

Minnie was so agitated that she could not at first get her voice 
when she tried to speak, and was trembling in every limb. Jane 
quickly joassed her strong arm around her waist, fearing she was 
about to faint, and said: 

" Give her a little time. Captain, please, and she will tell you." 

" Please, Miss Wagner, take a seat, and do not allow yourself 
to be so agitated. We have plenty of time, and it is my duty to 
attend to the wants of my passengers. So, after you rest a little, 
tell me what you want, and I will, T think, be able to assist 
you." 

Minnie sat down by the Captain, and Jane remained standing; 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 455 

but the Captain, pointing to a vacant seat, said: "Please sit, 
also." 

Minnie now, by an effort, recovered herself; and, looking up 
to the Captain with an expression of countenance the Captain 
afterwards declared to have been the sweetest he had ever seen 
in his life, said, in a voice yet trembling, but earnest and clear: 

" Oh! Captain; I am so far from home, and so frightened, for 
I have no protection here; and I want to tell you everything; 
and I was so afraid, you see, that you might not know that I 
was telling you just the truth." 

"Be assured, Miss Wagner, that I shall not misunderstand 
you; so do not be at all alarmed. Speak to me as you would to 
a friend; for it is my duty to be a friend to each and every pas- 
senger on board this steamer." 

Now, Minnie, in her own gentle way, told the Captain, as she 
had told the girls, how she came to be with Mrs. Lighthead, and 
the terrible life she was leading with her for the last ten days, 
and how she formed the acquaintance of the two girls; and that 
they had offered to protect her; and that, if it were possible, she 
wanted to get some room or safe place, where she could sleep 
and stay with them for the rest of the voyage; and that she was 
well provided with money, and would pay for this accommoda- 
tion; and for which, besides, she and her brother would be ever 
so much obliged. She then told who her brother was and where 
he was in business, and taking from between the leaves of her 
prayer-book Walter's letter, just received before she left home, 
she handed it to the Captain, with a request that he would read it. 
The Captain assured her that the reading of the letter was un- 
necessary, but that he would do so to please her, at his earliest 
convenience, and then return it. He further assured her of his 
full approval of the move she had made, and that she might rely 
on his protection. 

He then went to see the Purser, and soon returned with the 
news that an arrangement could be made to give a state-rOom to 
Minnie and her two friends, with the right for the girls to take 
their meals in the cabin at the second table. 

Minnie was now truly happy. That afternoon, under the 
orders of the Purser, her baggage was removed to its new loca- 
tion, and the two girls were installed with her. Minnie's story 
ran fast among her fellow-passengers ; and soon she became the 
object of interest and praise. 



456 PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 

" I knew all the time," said oiie lady, " that she was all right." 

" Yes," said another; •' I did, too, and pitied her." 

" Well, then, mamma, why did you forbid me to go to talk to 
her the other day, if you knew she was all right, as you say," 
said a nice girl of sixteen to her discerning mother. " Or, why 
did not some of you go and offer to help her, as those Irish girls 
did ?" 

" You are not old enough to understand these things yet, my 
dear. It was necessary for Miss Wagner (I believe that is her 
name,) to place herself right before any of us ladies could go 
near her. That she has now done ; and, of course, we are will- 
ing to take her by the hand." 

" But she won't want you now, mamma; and I cannot, for the 
life of me, see why some of you who praise her now, and who 
saw all the time that she was good, did not do what those Irish 
girls did, when you saw her fairly driven out of her stateroom 
by the conduct of that woman." 

" Oh ! child, you don't, I tell you, understand these matters; 
so say no more about it." 

Mrs. Lighthead was furious at Minnie's leaving her, and 
went to the Captain in a rage. The Captain was seated quietly 
reading in his office when she appeared before him. He raised 
his head from his book, but never moved his position, as Mrs. 
Lighthead commenced: 

" Captain, did you sanction that young girl leaving my pro- 
tection and going off with those Irish women ?" 

" I approved of the course Miss Wagner took, Mrs. Light- 
head. Did you wish anything else, madam ?" 

The Captain spoke in a slow, measured tone, without a muscle 
in his face moving, while his eyes were fixed on Mrs. Lighthead's 
countenance. 

" Captain, my husband is a rich man, and lives in San Fran- 
cisco, and I will report this conduct of yours to him; for, of 
course, that conceited hussy of a girl leaving me for such com- 
pany is an insult to me, sir; and I will report it to my husband, 
sir. You can depend on that!" 

"The last man in the world, Mrs. Lighthead, that you want 
this matter discussed before, is your husband,'' the Captain said, 
in the same quiet tone, still holding the book open before him, 
while his eyes were bent on his visitor with a half-contemptuous 
look gleaming out of them. " But if you wish it, I will go with 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 457 

you to him, and I will take a luUness or two with us." And now 
his lips fairly curled with a contemptuous smile. Mrs. Light- 
head turned and flounced out of the office. From that hour 
Mrs. Lighthead's whole conduct was changed. She appeared to 
cut her gentlemen acquaintances dead, and was propriety and 
circumspection itself in all her conduct for the rest of the 
voyage. 

As the steamer neared San Francisco, Mrs. Lighthead was seen 
to approach the Captain, and have some earnest words with him, 
appearing to use her handkerchief freely, as if to stop flowing 
tears. The interview seemed satisfactory to her, and, just as she 
was leaving, the Captain was heard to say : 

" All right; you have nothing to fear from me, Mrs. Light- 
head." 

So let us hope that Minnie's heroic conduct not only got her- 
self out of a great difficulty, but also saved from utter ruin the 
poor, weak ci'eature under whose protection she had so unfortu- 
nately been placed. 

Wild and his friends never again tormented Minnie; and the 
two Irish girls watched and cared for her as if she was some- 
thing sacred. She sat between them on the deck, and amused 
them either by talking or reading to them. She would not go to 
the first table to take her meals, but waited for the second, and 
sat between them. A rather homely young lady, observing this, 
said: 

" I do believe she does that to show off her beauty, for I con- 
fess she does look charming seated there between those great, 
strong women; and I see the gentlemen all making excuses to 
pass by her so as to have a look at her." 

"But how is it," said another, " that now that all the ladies 
and gentlemen are trying to get acquainted with her, she avoids 
them as much as we avoided her before? This, surely, does not 
look like trying to show off her beauty." 

After a few days, Minnie was left entirely undisturbed with 
her two friends, until the steamer dropped anchor in the bay of 
San Francisco, 



CHAPTEE Vn. 

Minnie's plan to meet her brother. 

It was ten in the morning when the steamer in which our little 
heroine came passenger reached the wharf in San Francisco. In 
the confusion and rush that ensued no one seemed to notice Min- 
nie or her two faithful companions. Oh, with what intense 
anxiety did Minnie watch the face of every man that rushed on 
board; but two hours passed, and no Walter came for his pet and 
darling sister. A terrible fear took possession of her that some 
accident had befallen him. 

" Oh, girls, what loill I do? Here, a stranger and alone, and 
you are strangers, too. Oh, if anything should have happened 
Walter!" 

" Dear Miss Minnie, do not forget so that God is with you. 
Do as you did before; do what looks right for you to do, and He 
will take you through all safe, you know, Miss Minnie," 

" Yes, Jane, you are right, and this is no time to be a coward. 
What is the name of the boarding-house you were directed to 
by the friend who wrote to you from Stockton to come to Cali- 
fornia ?" 

Jane then took a letter out of her pocket, and read from it the 
following: 

" When you get to San Francisco go to a boarding-house kept by one 
Nicholas Donnelly and his wife, in Jackson street, a little below Mont- . 
gomery street. She and her husband are good people, and will soon get you 
a place, and if they do not, write to me, and I can get you lots of places up 
here. If any one asks you to marry them, don't do it until you know who 
you are marrying, for there are some great rascals in California, as well as 
lots of good men. I am going to be married to a nice farmer myself next 
week." 

Jane laughed as she read this last part of the quotation, and 
said: 

' ' She need not have said that about getting married, for I am 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALIEORNU. 459 

sure we don't think of such a thing, for all we want, just yet a 
bit, is to make money to send home to bring out two brothers 
we have in Ireland." 

" Well, girls," said Minnie, " let us all three go to this board- 
ing-house, and I will leave a note here with the Captain to give 
to my brother, if he comes, to say where he can find me, and, 
perhaps, he will come some time to-day or to-morrow." 

And so it was arranged. Minnie foimd the boarding-house a 
rough place. Donnelly was a rough specimen of good nature. 
He had a good, kind heart, and was zealous and active in get- 
ting good places for girls who jDufc up at his house. The wife 
was very like her husband in every respect; a bustling, active, 
honest Irish woman. When Mrs. Donnelly's eyes rested on 
Minnie, she stopped short, and a look of surprise appeared for a 
moment on her face, and then, turning towards Jane, she said* 
" Your friend, I suppose ?" 

" Yes," said Jane, promptly. " This is Miss Wagner, waiting 
for her brother; she came with us." 

" Oh, that is all right." And, turning to Minnie, she continued: 
" I am afraid. Miss Wagner, you will find this house a rough 
place for you ; but you will be safe, anyway, until your brother 
comes for you, and you know people like us cannot keep a fine 
house here in California, where everything costs so." 

" The house is good enough, Mi's. Donnelly^ for me, or any 
one; and I am perfectly content to be in a safe place, as you say, 
with my friends, until my brother comes." 

There was something about Minnie's voice and manner that 
attracted every one; so, as Mrs. Donnelly hastened away to get 
her guests something to eat, she said to herself: 

" She is a sweet darling of a girl, surely. What a pity if the 
poor thing gets a bad husband out herel" 

After dinner, Minnie wrote to Mr. Allen, telling him of her 
arrival, and asking him if he knew anything of her brother's 
movements. Mrs. Donnelly's little son took the note, and soon 
returned with this endorsement written on the open note : 

Mr. Allen and Mr. Wheeler both being absent, I opened this note, and 
■wish to say that we have heard nothing from Mr. Walter Wagner lately, al- 
though I find a letter from him to our firm on file, in which he says that he 
expected soon to be in the city. E. F. Baker, Bookkeeper. 

Minnie had no acquaintance whatever with any one of the firm 
of Allen, Wheeler & Co., but Mr. Allen himself; so, of course, 



(1-60 PIONEEE TIMES IX CALIFORNIA. 

this ended all further communication with them. She now be- 
came very anxious. The fact that Walter had Avritten to Allen, 
Wheeler & Co. that he was soon to come to the city looked as 
if he must have received her letter; and yet what could have pre- 
vented his coming? Mrs. Donnelly had just been giving her de- 
tails of robberies and murders that were then becoming ter- 
ribly frequent; "attributed," Mrs. Donnelly said, "mostly to 
Sydney convicts." 

This further excited poor Minnie's imagination, until now she 
was in a perfect fever of anxiety. To add to her troubles, both 
Jane and Maria were that day engaged by ladies, who had called 
at the boarding-house, on hearing of the steamer's arrival, and 
the girls were to take their places the next day. ISIiunie made 
inquiries as to the possibility of her proceeding to Downieville 
without an escort, for now she was willing to run any risk that 
was not actually improper to get out of her present position 
and find Walter safe. Mrs. Donnelly said: 

"No, Miss; I think not. There is such a crowd of men on 
board the steamer every night — a perfect jam — and very few 
women. If you were once as far as Sacramento, I think you 
could o-et on from there, for men in California take a pride in 
protecting women who take care of themselves; but they couldn't 
understand a girl like you being alone on the steamer. But from 
Sacramento up you would be almost sure to fall in with some 
family going to Downieville.*' 

" Would not the Captain protect-me-on the steamer ?" asked 
Minnie. 

" It would not do. Miss, to depend on it. The Captain is 
rushed to death with all the duties he has to perform, and he 
would tell you that you had no right to go alone on the steamer." 

That night Minnie hardly slept two hours, and when she did 
sleep, she saw in her dreams 'Walter lying on a bed of sickness, 
calling to her to come to him, and at other times she saw a Syd- 
ney ruffian murdering him. She arose, tired and half-sick with 
anxiety. The girls were to leave her in the afternoon. What 
was she to do ? As she walked up and down the little sitting- 
room, she stopped suddenly, and exclaimed: 

" Yes; I will do it, if Mrs. Donnelly and the girls do not say it 
is wrong." 

Calling to Jane and Maria, who were dividing their clothes 
and getting ready for their places, she said: 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFOKNL\. 461 

" Girls, I have just thought of a plan to get as far as Sacra- 
roento, if you and Mrs. Donnelly do not think it out of the way." 
They called Mrs. Donnelly-, and Minnie told them her plan was 
to disguise herself as a boy, and in that way reach Sacramento 
unnoticed. 

"I dislike it, of course," she said; " but anything is better 
than remaining here while I believe my brother must be lying 
dangerously sick, or he would have been here. I am half-sick 
now from horrid thoughts about it." 

Both the girls, without speaking, looked towards Mrs. Don- 
nelly, and Minnie turned towards her also. Mrs. Donnelly re- 
mained in thought a moment, then said: 

" I do not like it, either. It is, in the first place, running a 
terrible risk; for, if you were discovered, nothing but a miracle 
could save you from worse than death; and then we all dislike 
doing such a thing, we hardly know why. But, at the same time, 
this is California, and we all run great risks in one way or an- 
other, and almost always come out right when our intention is 
good; and Ave all, too, do things we dislike in California, and 
when we intend no wrong it is no shame to us; so, taking your 
difficulty into thought — and I see you are almost crazy about 
your brother, and it may be that he does want you, sure enough — 
so I do not see why, if you can fix yourself up pretty well, your 
plan would not be best for you, if you only have the courage to 
carry it out without being found out." 

So, after some further conversation, all agreed to Minnie's 
dangerous plan. Mrs. Donnelly and Jane went to a clothing 
store near at hand and purchased a full suit of boy's clothes, 
including a slouched hat, a sort of a loose overcoat, and a 
light pair of boys' boots. The great difficulty to manage was 
Minnie's immense head of hair; but, after several experiments, 
they tied it close back, and, doubling it up once, let it fall so as 
to be concealed by the overcoat and wide -brimmed hat. They 
then darkened her eyebrows and complexion with flour scorched 
brown. Thus rigged, all declared the disguise complete, aud 
that by a little caution it would be impossible for her to be dis- 
covered. Mrs. Donnelly recollected that she knew a girl working 
at the Eagle Hotel in Sacramento, and, giving her name to Min- 
nie, advised her to put up at that hotel, and to mention her 
name to the girl, and she would find her a friend. Mrs. Don- 
nelly's son had procured a ticket for the steamer Senator, going 



462 PIONEER TIMES IN CALIEOENIA. 

up the river that day, and he shipped Minnie's trunks addressed 
to " Miss Minnie Wagner, Eagle Hotel, Sacramento." 

So when the hour came, everything being ready, Minnie took a 
most affectionate leave of her two faithful protectors and Mrs. 
Donnelly, who all blessed her and prayed for her safet}^; Mrs. 
Donnelly's son went with her as far as the wharf, and Minnie, 
with as bold a step as she could assume, walked on board the 
boat, and aft on the promenade deck, and seated herself, looking 
out over the stern of the boat. Not one had seemed to notice 
her in any way, and she felt perfectly secure in her disguise. 
The boat shoved off from the wharf, and, as the steamer plunged 
her way thi'ough the bays and straits into, to Minnie, the 
wondrous Sacramento river, she enjoyed all the new sceneiy with 
intense delight. She had dreamed over and over of it all, and 
3'et the reality did not disappoint her. The evening air was 
bracing and invigorating, and her strength and courage arose as 
though stimulated by champagne; even her heretofore anxiety 
about Walter seemed partly to vaiiish. The noise and bustle of 
the immense throng of passengers, almost all of whom were 
rough-looking miners, were somehow pleasing and exciting to 
her; and she exclaimed: 

" So this is California, in reality, that I am now fairly in, I 
may say. Well, I like it already. It is glorious. Oh ! how 
happy I shall be when I am away up there in the mountains with 
Walter. Yes; in my dreams of it all, I never felt so charmed as 
this. Oh ! dash on, dear Senator, and let me be entirely hapjDj'. 
Yes; I want to get to my dear brother Walter, away up on some 
high place, such as he has often written to me of, where I can 
look down on this dear California, so as to admire and love it 
altogether. Oh ! I am so glad I thought of this plan to get on, 
for no one can ever suspect who is here in these clothes. " 

Poor Minnie ! Little did she dream while thus giving away to 
the natural excited feelings of her young heart, that the night 
just now closing in and enveloping everything in darkness was 
to be to her a night of horror never to be forgotten. 



CHAPTEE VIH. 



BICH GOLD DIGGINGS — JOHN WABD. 



It was some two months after Walter dispatclied his letter to 
Minnie, giving her such a glorious description of his location, 
which he made as poetic and attractive as possible, because he 
knew her tastes well, and he wished that, when thinking of him, 
her thoughts should be all pleasant. He had also in that letter 
expressed the greatest wish that she and his darling mother 
should be with them. This he had done without any ex- 
jjectation that it was possible for the wish to be realized just yet, 
but to intimate that he looked forward, with hope, to the day 
when it could be realized. It was, as I have said, about two 
months after he had dispatched this letter, that one day, on visit- 
ing Downieville, he observed a crowd collected near the post- 
office, gathered around a tall miner, who was apparently showing 
them something. Walter approached, and found it was a man 
just returned from some newly-discovered diggings, and that he 
was showing the crowd about four ounces of placer gold. As 
the cup with Ihe gold passed from hand to hand, there were 
various comments as to the sort of diggings it must have come 
from. 

" Where that was got there are bushels more, I can tell you, 
boys," said one. 

" I am not so sure," said another. 

"Give me the diggings where the gold is fine, as in the Feather 
Eiver, for instance. The fine-gold diggings are always more 
permanent, and therefore better in the long run." 

"You may be right in that," said a third, "but I tell you 
many a man will be made rich in the diggings where that was 
found, or I am fooled mightily." 

" Well, gentlemen," said the owner of the gold, " I had been 
prospecting for nearly a month when I hit on the claim out of 
which I took this gold. I will make four of you, and only four 



4:64 KONEER TIMES IX CALIFORNIA. 

oi you, this proiDOsition: I will go privately and show you my 
claim, so that each of you can locate a choice claim, if you bind 
yourselves to pay me five hundred dollars each, out of the first 
money you make over all expenses. Then all others can sail in 
for themselves." 

This proposition was applauded, and four men soon stepped 
out of the crowd to accept the ofifer for choice claims. The 
miner looked at the men ofi'ering to take his proposition, and 
said: 

" I am not acquainted with you, boys, but if Walter Wagner 
here will go your security, I will accept you." 

" Yes, Jake; I know them all, and it is all right. I will go 
their security," said Walter. 

"Well, boys, get some one to write down the understanding 
for 5'ou, and let Wagner put his name on it, and we will make 
our preparations to leave camp." 

Then a tall, fine-looking man, iu a gray suit of clothes, who 
had been examining the gold with all the rest, and who evi- 
dently was a new-comer to the State, and not a miner, said, in 
a pleasing, friendly voice : 

" If you wish, boys, I will do the writing for you, as I have 
nothing much to do." 

They went Avith him to Adams & Co.'s Express office, got pen, 
ink and paper, and iu a few minutes the stranger had the agree- 
ment drawn, beautifully written and well worded. All were well 
pleased. The principals signed the agreement, and Walter was 
sent for to sign the guarantee. Walter appeared, and, as he 
read the agreement, he said: 

"Why, this is done in good shape, and beautifully written. 
Who is your scribe ?" 

"I wrote it," said the gentleman in gray clothes. " I am glad 
it pleases you." 

Walter, for the first time looked at the stranger, and was most 
favorably struck witli his whole apj^earance. 

" Excuse me," said Walter, as he bowed to the stranger. " The 
reason I asked was that I did not know any of our boys who 
could have put this little agreement in such good shape, in so 
few words." 

Walter signed the paper, and Jake, addressing the stranger, 
said : 

" Come, General, su^^pose you put your fist to the document as 
a witness. " 



1 



PiOJfEER TIMES IN CALrPORNIA. 465 

"With pleasure," said the stranger, as he took the pen, and 
wrote in a bold hand: " John Ward." 

Jake now took out of his buckskin bag a curiously shaped 
specimen of gold, weighing perhaps an ounce, and reaching it to 
Ward said : " Here, General; take this. It is not much for your 
trouble, but it will do to show your friends at the Bay, as a speci- 
men of our Downieville diggings." 

" Oh, as to taking anything for my trouble, I did not intend 
to do that; but I confess I would like that curious specimen, so I 
will take it, Jake, and always think of you while I am showing 
it." 

Ward said this in the familiar, pleasant way miners were in the 
habit of speaking to each other in the very first moment of their 
acquaintance. 

Now one of Jake's new associates called out : " Come, Gen- 
eral Ward, and Mr. Wagner, and all of you, into the saloon 
across the way, and have something to drink to close up this 
business in our miner's fashion. That's what brings luck, you 
know." 

So all laughed in good humor, and crossed the street to the 
saloon. Some called for "whisky straight;" others for ale; 
others for a punch, and so on in every sort of variety, until all 
had chosen their drink. Walter called for a cigar, and Ward 
followed his example. After some general conversation, in which 
Ward freely joined, he said: " But, boys, why the mischief do 
you call me General, for I am no General ? I am a Captain, 
though, for I am master of the English bark Blue Bell, now 
anchored in the bay of San Francisco, and, having nothing to do, 
I have just taken a run up here among you with my friend here, 
Frederick Brown, who is a sort of an old miner, just to see how 
you do things in the mines." 

At this, some one else called for drinks in honor of Captain 
John Ward, of the bark Blue Bell, and his friend, which were 
drunk with evident satisfaction. Ward and Walter happened 
to leave the saloon together, and, while walking back to the ex- 
press office, smoking their cigars, entered into conversation. 
Ward had remarked that Walter was evidently one of the most 
prominent men of the district, and now exerted himself to the 
utmost to j)roduce on his mind a favorable impression of himself. 
On reaching the express office, they sat down together and chat- 
ted for over an hour. Walter was jjerfectly charmed with his 
30 



466 PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFOENIA. 

new acquaintance, and, on leaving for home, gave "Ward a press- 
ing invitation to come to his camp in High Canyon, and make 
him a visit, saying they had plenty of blankets and enough to 
eat. Ward accepted the invitation, assuring Walter that he had 
no idea of finding so j)leasing an acquaintance up here in the 
mountains. So they joarted, apparently well pleased with each 
other, and Walter told him to bring his friend, Mr. Brown, with 
him, and then cautioned him as to the difficulties of the road to 
High Canyon. But the Captain, laughing, said : 

" Oh ! you know I am a sailor, and climbing is my profession." 

In two days after this occurrence, Captain Ward and Mr. Brown 
made their appearance at Wagner & Hilton's store, in High 
Canyon. Walter received them both in the most cordial manner, 
unsaddled their horses, and unjjacked a mule they had led with 
them, freighted with blankets and provisions; then staked the ani- 
mals out on good feed near a little mountain stream, where the 
grass was yet green. Then, leading the way to the store, he intro- 
duced both his friends to his partner, and ordered the Chinaman 
cook to get up the best supper he could. They had some fine 
venison on band; so, in a reasonable time, the Chinaman laid be- 
fore them a very good supper for hungry men to do justice to, 
and Mr. Hilton declared that the Chinaman did better in this 
instance than he had ever known him to do before. After sup- 
per, each one threw himself into the easiest position possible to 
converse, or listen, as the case might be. Walter commenced 
by saying: 

•' Captain, why did you bring that pack animal? Did I not 
tell you that we had blankets and enough to eat, not only for 
ourselves, but also for friends who should favor us wish a visit ?" 

" Oh ! I understood all that, dear fellow, perfectly well; but 
this is the rig Brown purchased for us on leaving Sacramento, 
and he will have it with us wherever we go, whether we want it 
or not. I make it a rule not to act Captain on shore. I get 
enough of that at sea, and am only too glad when I can throw 
all authority off of my shoulders on to some one else, so I let 
Brown have his own way; and he would have that cursed mule 
up the hill to-day for no earthly object that I could see but to 
bother the life out of us, for I had to go ahead and pull him 
with a rope around his neck, while Brown walked behind the 
brute, prodding him with a pointed stick." 

Walter laughed heartily, in which Brown and Hilton joined. 



PIONEEU TIMES IN CALIEORNIA. 



46t 



*' The truth is," said Brown, "I am the best commander on 
shore; for had I gone by the Captain's ideas since we started on 
this cruise, we would have been sometimes without supper, and 
oftener yet without blankets at night; though, of course, I did 
not fear anything of that sort in this case. But I thought it 
might be that, in leaving here, we would not go back through 
Downieville; and then I thought it would be safer to have our 
traps with us, for those S3'dney ducks are getting very plenty in 
every locality in the State." 

" Yes," said Walter; "and the authorities in San Francisco 
seem incapable of curbing them in the least. It is too bad that 
England does not keep her thieves at home, or out of the way at 
least; is it not, Captain ? You will agree with me, I know, even 
if you are an Englishman." 

" My dear fellow, I agree with you most heartily; and would 
do so even if I were an Englishman, which, thank God, I am not; 
for I am Irish by birth." 

" Irish ! Oh ! are you Irish ? I never would have supposed 
so. Why, I am half Irish myself, for my mother was born in 
Ireland." 

" Oh ! upon my honor! is it possible? Grive me your hand, 
dear fellow. I thought I cottoned to you, Wagner, in some un- 
accountable way," said the Captain, rising and shaking Walter 
warmly by the hand. Then he added: " But your father. That 
name Wagner is not exactly an English- American name." 

" No; my father said it was a Pennsylvania-Dutch name; but 
I suppose it is not spelled exactly as it used to be. But, Cap- 
tain, all this about nationalties I regard as a good deal of a hum- 
bug. There are good and bad men among all. Don't you say 
so ?" 

" Yes, my dear fellow. There is a good deal of truth in what 
you say; but somehow I am glad I am not an Englishman, any- 
way." 

" Oh, so am I; and so is a little sister I have, who is the great- 
est little woman in the United States, if she is but seventeen 
years old; and she is as proud as the mischief of her Irish 
blood. Oh, yes," he continued, laughing heartily; " you say a 
word to her about the Irish and you have her all on fire, and 
the chances are that, to regain her favor, you will have to com- 
mit to memory ' Davis' Battle of Fontenoy,' and Emmet's last 
speech, and repeat them at some Fourth of July celebration." 



468 PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFOENIA. 

And Walter laughed out loud, exclaiming: " Oh, how absurd! 
I will tell you what is a fact. Because I said, just in fun one 
day — to anno}' her, you know — that I thought it a good thing 
that Ireland had not got free of the English, for that I doubted 
their ability to govern themselves, before I could make my 
peace I had to commit to memory ' Moore's Curse on Traitors ' 
in his ' Fire Worshipers,' and top off with singing ' I'm Sitting 
on the Stile, Mary.'" 

All laughed, and the Captain said: 

" There is nothing I like so much as to see a woman patriotic. 
How I should like to know your sister!" 

" Patriotic!" repeated Walter. " Why, Minnie's patriotism 
does not stop with Ireland; she is just as fiery about her Ameri- 
can origin. She could listen to father for hours at a time telling 
stories of the revolutionary days. Yes; and, to show you how 
far she goes with it, I will tell you a scrape James De Forest, a 
friend of mine, got into on one occasion Avith her. Ho and I 
came suddenly on her one day while she Avas reading in a sunny 
little corner in our house, and found her shedding tears over the 
book. Of course we thought it was some love-sick novel, and I 
was surprised, for I knew Minnie did not go much on that sort 
of stuff. But, to our surprise, we found the book was ' Irving's 
Life of Washington,' and that the passage that brought her 
tears of sympathy was the one in which General Green is de- 
scribed, while on his southern campaign, as arriving at a tavern 
in Salisbury, in North Carolina, after a reverse the night before, 
travel-stained, fatigued, hungry, alone and penniless, as ho him- 
self declared in the hearing of the landlady, Elizabeth Steele; 
who immediately goes to her hiding place and draws out two 
bags of money, the savings of a lifetime, and the result of many 
and many a pleasure and joy resigned, and, handing them to the 
General, says: ' Take these; you will want them, and I can do 
without them.' De Forest was always fond of joking and an- 
noying Minnie; so he began to ridicule Mrs. Steele, saying she 
was a fool to give up her money, and before he stopped he said 
something disrespectful of Washington himself. Well, what do 
you think ? James was- never able to make his peace with her 
afterwards until he committed to memory Washington's farewell 
address, and then they made up friends." 

" Where is this James De Forest now ?" said the Captain, whilo 
he laughed and seemed to enjoy all Walter had been saying. 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 4G9 

" Oh! lie is in Oregon. He is getting to be one of the first 
men there. Ever since ho came to the State ho has been going, 
as the saying is, ' slow but sure.' He is a first-rate fellow. I 
wish I had his tact for making money. I make it faster than he 
does, but somehow I lose it all again. I had a letter from him 
yesterday, and he talks of making a visit East, but says that if 
my family come to California, he will not go, because he has no 
near relations himself, and my family are all ho cares much 
about." 

" How many in your family, Wagner ?" 
" Only my mother and sister." 

"Oh! I see," said the Captain with a musing smile, which 
"Walter did not observe, though Brown and Hilton gave a half 
laugh . 

"Have you your sister's likeness, Wagner?" continued the 
Captain. 

" Oh, yes; here it is." 

As Walter spoke, he arose, went to his drawer, and produced 
a colored daguerreotype of Minnie. The Captain and Brown 
arose, took it to the best light, and both declared that, if that 
was a good likeness, she was beautiful. 

" Oh! as she is not here, and, as none of you gentlemen are 
likely ever to see her, I may as well just tell you that she is, in 
fact, much handsomer than that picture; because in the picture 
Minnie's face is in repose; but it is when aroused in conversation 
you see her real beauty; and I do think it is very uncommon." 

"Why don't you send for her, Wagner? This State is now 
filling up with women, and she and your mother would be such 
a comfort to you, I should think. I have only just my mother 
left of my family, but I am so sick without her, all the time 
thinking of her, that if I conclude to sell my ship and stay in 
California, I shall at once send for her to come and live with 
me." 

" Well, I have written to them, intimating that I want them 
to come; and the fact is, I should have had an answer to my 
letter by tho last steamer ; but I did not got a line. I know Min- 
nie wrote, for she never forgets to do so since I left home; so I 
think her letter must have been lost; but I will, without doubt, 
have a letter by the next steamer, which will be due in a few 
days. Then I will know exactly what they think of my propo- 
sition." 



470 PIONEER TIMES IX CALIFORNLV. 

"Ob! I \vould induce them to come, by all means," said the 
Captain. "It is too bad to leave a girl like youi* sister back 
there, and she must be so lonesome without you." 

Just then three or four young men came in, who were mining 
in the neighborhood, and were cordially received. They were 
introduced to the Captain and Brown, and asked to take seats, 
such as the others had, on boxes and barrels, and such like. The 
newcomers were evidently persons of education and intelligence. 
Now the conversation turned on mines and mining; and, as is ever 
the case at evening camp-fires in the mining regions, each had 
some strange story to tell of m^'steriously lost prospectors. The 
first was of a prospector who had come into camj? with beautiful 
specimens of gold, some as large as a pigeon's egg; and who, 
after supplying himself with provisions, had disappeared in some 
unaccountable way, and was never seen again. And how soon 
afterwards some of these very specimens were offered for sale at 
a store in INIarysville by a hard-looking rough, supposed to be a 
Sydney convict. Then came a story of a prospector who came 
into camp fairly loaded down with gold, and almost starved; 
and how he told that he had found the diggings from which he 
brought this gold by following an Indian for seven days and 
nights into the most inaccessible part of the mountains; and 
stated that he could fill a quart cup with such gold as he exhibi- 
ted, in these diggings, in half an hour. How excited the miners 
were on hearing this wonderful story. How they gathered 
around him, and besought him to take them to the new-found 
diggings. How he at length selected ten strong men to go back 
with him; how well they fitted out; only, however, taking two 
pack mules with them, which, the prospector said, they must 
abandon at a certain place, the trail being inaccessible, even to 
mules, the rest of the way. How the party left camp in the 
night time, when every one least expected them to go, and how 
they never were heard of again. Then how, in the next spring, 
when the snows melted, the skeletons of two mules and eleven 
men were found with an immense quantity' of gold fastened to 
the bones of the dead men and animals; the narrator declaring 
that these diggings were never yet found. Several more such 
stories were told, to all of which the miners listened with a sort 
of mysterious pleasure; although most of them knew that they 
were in the main fabulous. The last story was one more ex- 
travagant, mysterious and wonderful than any yet told. At its 
conclusion, one of the young miners arose, saying: 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 471 

" That will do, boys, for one night. Let us go. I have never 
sat at a camp-fire of a night in the mountains, since I have been 
mining, that I have not heard these same stories, or nearly the 
same, told, always a little differently, of course. The first time 
I heard that story of the gold fastened to the skeletons I had 
no sleep that night, thinking of the dead men with the sacks of 
gold fastened on them; but, after hearing the same story told in 
various ways to suit the taste and feeling of the chap telling it, 
I came to understand the matter; so the next camp-fire I sat by 
I told the gold dead bones story as having happened to myself. 
Not that I was one of the ten dead men, you know; that would 
be too thin, of course, but that I was one of the men who found 
the bones; and, by way of varying the story, I left out the sacks 
of gold altogether. Well, to my surprise, not one in the camp 
believed the story, and said I made it up for the occasion. I 
saw I had made a fatal mistake in the variation I had ventured 
upon; and now, when seated among strangers at camp, and it 
comes to my turn to ' spin a yarn,' I often tell that story, but 
am sure never to leave out the gold in sacks fastened to the 
bones. When I find the story is taking, and is sort of new 
to the crowd, I feel encouraged, and sometimes venture to vary 
it by saying that I found one skeleton a few yards behind the 
rest lying on its back across a large log with the head held down 
by an immense sack of gold-dust fastened around the neck 
showing that the poor fellow, weak and almost starved, slipped 
on the log in crossing, and, falling backwards over it, was choked 
to death by his load of gold. And then I point to the moral, 
* Don't be avaricious.' " 

This unmasking the stories just told created a hearty laugh. 

"But," said our young wag, "you must be careful, gentle- 
men, when any of you undertake to tell the gold bone story, 
. with my patent edition; for I once nearly got caught myself in 
telling it. I had described the log on which I found the skele- 
ton with the bag of gold on its neck, as an immense fallen tree, 
some four feet in diameter, forgetting that in the first part of 
the story I had described the whole country, in which we had 
found the remains, as being without a drop of water or stick of 
timber for forty miles around. Just as I concluded, some in- 
quisitive fellow in the crowd called out: ' Thought you said there 
was no timber in the neighborhood ?' I was a little stuck at 
first, but, recovering myself in time, I said: ' Not one stick, 



472 PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFOEXU. 

Captain, but tbis one log, and tbat was tbe most wonderful cir- 
cumstance of tbe wbole story, and to tbis day we never could 
account for tbe log; for as to tbe rest, you know, it was most 
natural.'" 

" Ob, yes," tbey all said; "tbe rest was an every day occur- 
rence; but bow tbat log got tbere was truly wonderful." 

Now tbe party broke up, all in good bumor, and laugbed at 
tbe outcome of tbe evening's " miner's stories." "Walter sbowed 
Captain Ward and Mr. Brown to tbeir bed, wbicb was a very 
comfortable one for a miner's camp. Tbat nigbt "Walter bad a 
strange, troubled dream. He tbougbt be stood on "Long 
wbarf," at the foot of Commercial street, San Francisco, and 
that be saw Captain "Ward's bark, tbe Blue Bell, looking just 
as tbe Captain bad described ber, sailing past tbe wbarf, and 
tbat Minnie was on board, looking over tbe side, screaming and 
calling for belp, wbile Captain Ward stood bebind ber appa- 
rently trying to draw ber back. In an instant Walter leaped 
into tbe bay to swim to ber, and found bimself sprawling out of 
his berth on tbe floor. 

" Ob, a dream !" be exclaimed as be rose to bis feet, " and a 
strange, detestable one at tbat; but, thank God, it was a dream.' 

Then, as be fixed bimself back in bis bunk, getting the clothes 
around him, be said to bimself : 

"My darling Minnie, I hope this dream does not betoken 
any coming danger to you, or tbat you are in any trouble. No, 
of course; and to think that, because of a dream, would be non- 
sense; but what on earth made me, even in a dream, connect 
Captain Ward, who is such a perfect gentleman, with Min- 
nie in tbat horrid way ? What strange things dreams are ! 
How different tbe Captain looked while he was trying to drag 
Minnie back from tbe ship's side in a dream from what bis nat- 
ural look is, wbicb is always so pleasing. In the dream be was 
just the same in every way be was last night, except tbat his 
eyes had a fearful, dark, cruel look in them. I am glad I awoke 
so soon, even if I did hurt myself by that confounded jump. 
Well, I will tell tbis to no one, for it might make a wrong im- 
pression on Ward as to my feelings towards him, which I would 
not like, because the fact is, I never before knew a man for so 
short a time tbat I have taken such a fancy to." 

And now Walter dropped off to sleep again, murmuring: 
" God bless you, my darling Minnie, and keep you safe." 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORMA. 473 

The next morning after breakfast, Walter took liis visitors 
through the diggings in High Canyon, and gave them an insight 
into all that was froiug on. 

They pulled up at night at the store, and fared as well as be- 
fore. "\Valtei*'s partner, Isaac Hilton, ti'eated both the visitors 
politely, but apparently did not fancy them as Walter did. 
There was something about them th:it all the time repelled him, 
as it were. He did not give himself much trouble about this, 
until he saw Walter so fascinated, and perceived from the actions 
of the visitors that they intended to stay for some time longer. 
Then his natural caution induced him to watch their every mo- 
tion and look with great care and considerable uneasiness; 
which, however, he tried to hide from observation. On the third 
day, as Ward and Brown found themselves alone, Brown ad- 
dressed his companion, with: 

" What can be gained by staj-ing here any longer ? What do 
you expect to make out of either Wagner or Hilton?" 

" Make ! Well, I do not know that I will make anything, but 
it is too soon to decide. But, in a general way, I will tell you 
my plan. We have very little to do just now, so we are not losing 
time; and this young Wagner is a fellow of good parts, and he 
will always have a good deal of influence in any community in 
which he lives. I see he takes to me with a rush. I have made 
up my mind I will cultivate him; and after awhile I will get him 
to sell out to this suspicious dog of a partner of his, come down 
to San Francisco, where his influence among the Americans will 
help our boys very much without his ever knowing more of us 
than he knows to-day. I will then set you up in business with 
him. I will get him to send for that handsome sister of his. 
I will marry her. I will then have your store, you know, robbed, 
and the wind-pipe of this confiding young gentleman slit by 
some accident, you know. Then I will propose to my beautiful, 
young, sorrowing wife to take a trip to sea to soothe her grief, 
which she will do at once. I will sail out of the harbor of San 
Francisco with forty or fifty able-bodied fellows of the right sort, 
and relieve two or three of the Panama steamers of their gold 
before the Yankees know their steamers are in danger. Then I 
will run south, find a beautiful island in the South Pacific, where 
I will regularly found my empire, making you my Secretary of 
State. There you have my whole plan. What do you think 
of it ?" 



474 PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFOENIA. 

" Think of it ! Why, as a whole, it is a humbug. As to your 
getting this young fellow to sell out, and all that part of it, in- 
cluding the robbing him of his cash, that is all well enough; but 
what in the devil's name do you want of that girl ? 

"Want of her, Brown?" said Ward, laughing, and then con- 
tinuing, in an assumed love-sick tone: " My dear fellow, I am in 
love with her just from looking at that picture of hers, and from 
the description her enthusiastic brother gave us of her; and 
have her, I will; so there is no use in arguing with me. You will 
yet see her walking the quarter-deck of the Blue Bell as queen 
of the ship; and then, when I have found my empire, I will want 
an empress, you know." 

Brown seemed impatient, while Ward talked in this strain, and 
broke in with: "That sort of talk is well enough when one 
is in the humor to listen to nonsense, but we have business to 
attend to now. I see our boys in San Francisco cannot hold up 
as you told them to do. The papers received here last night re- 
port two or three more smart little jobs. They will get into 
trouble yet, before we are ready to go to sea, if you do not con- 
trol them." 

" Well, perhaps you had better go down to the bay and give 
them to understand that I am not to be trifled with in this mat- 
ter; while I stay here and carry out my plan in regard to 
Wagner." 

" Well, I will go, then; but now let me warn you and give 
you my opinion. This young fellow, Wagner, is apparently 
mild and gentle, though a powerful man physically. It is easy 
to see that he loves this sister of his a thousand times better 
than he loves his life, and I pity the man that ever even looks 
disrespectfully at her; for, once aroused, such men are tigers not 
easily overcome. What you say of inducing Wagner to come to 
San Francisco is all right enough, because we can handle him, 
I see, so as to make a good turn out of him; but take my advice 
and let the sister alone. Don't bring her near us, or the first 
time she looks into your eyes, her woman's quickness of percep- 
tion will read you through and through. The brother will be 
put on his guard, and then the worst consequences may fol- 
low." 

"Pshaw! Brown. Why was it that my mother did not read 
my father in the way you say ?" 

" Ah! Captain, but this Yankee girl is another sort of being 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 475 

altogether. She is young, and undoubtedly, from the descrip- 
tion, as beautiful and innocent as you describe your mother to 
have been, but your mother was the child of luxury; she never 
once had to think for herself. Every one that approached her 
did so to administer to her wants or her pleasure. Your father 
was the first villain she ever met or spoke to, so it was just no 
game at all to deceive her; but not so this Wagner girl; for, from 
what her brother says, she is not only beautiful and accomplished, 
but she is a woman right out, and thinks she has something to 
do in the world besides being dressed like a doll to be looked 
at. You can see, too, by what he says that she is well read, and 
knows that there are worthless men and worthless women every 
day to be met with, and that a woman, to avoid them, must keep 
a sharp look-out. No, no; make no attempt on this Yankee girl, 
or you will go under as sure as the sun shines. No; be 
satisfied with Lizzie Lawson. You have won her; make her 
your queen, your empress, as old Jack, her father, I see, ex- 
pects you to do; otherwise, he and his son may prove very trouble- 
some." 

"Troublesome!" said Ward, with an evident start. "Well, 
if they ever do attempt a game of that sort, I will close it up in 
short order for them. But, Brown, your talk is all stuff. Don't 
you know that I have told you that I swore to outdo my father in 
every act of his villainous life. iEe captured a bird out of a 
royal cage for his wife. Do you want me to be satisfied with 
one born of a convict bird? No; I followed up Lizzie in obedi- 
ence to the wolf part of my animal appetite, but the lion must 
now be fed, and the more beautiful, intelligent, proud and keen- 
sighted the girl is, the better I will like it. Yes; you shall see 
me take this proud Yankee bird right from under the eagle's 
wing in spite of all opposition, even if the whole Yankee nation 
conspired to defeat me. Yes; I have set my heart on this feat, 
and I will succeed, or I am not what I supposed John Cameron 
Ward — Lusk — to be." 

" Well, have your own way, Captain; I have shown you the 
danger; face it if you will, and, if you do succeed, you will sure 
enough have outdone your worthy father; but do not, in your 
tactics, forget that there is such a man as James De Forest some- 
where about." 

" No; I acknowledge that he is dangerous, and, as a military 
movement, I believe I will dispatch some worthy of our gang to 



476 PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 

Oregon to send liim to Heaven, that he may not trouble me on 
earth." 

That evening the mail arrived from San Francisco, announcing 
the steamer having arrived. But to Walter's astonishment and 
alarm it brought him no letter from home. However, his part- 
ner reminded him that their Eastern mail was often behind-hand 
three and, sometimes, four days. This, Walter now recollected, 
was, in fact, often the case; so he made up his mind to wait pa- 
tiently a day or two longer. This evening a letter came to Cap- 
tain Ward, and, on receiving it, he and Brown walked off together. 
As he opened it: 

" Why," said he, " this is from Wild." 

"From Wild!" ejaculated Brown. "Is it possible! Then 
the precious rascal is back." 

" I wonder if he has made much," Ward exclaimed, reading 
over the contents of the letter for a few minutes without speak- 
ing; then, as he read the last paragraph, he said: 

" Here, I will answer your question by reading what he says 
in the latter part of his letter.'' 

" I made well on the steamer going east, but when I got fairly 
among the Yankee sharps, I lost nearly every d — d dollar, and 
had to borrow. I struck one ' sucker,' however, and did not 
leave him a ' red.' This enabled me to start back in a respecta- 
ble sort of a way. I made nothing worth naming on the passage 
back here, except that I nipped about a thousand dollars' worth 
of jewelry and five hundred in cash from a California grass 
widow coming out to her husband. I knew that sort of stock, 
and went for her; playing soft with her, I soon got my chance, 
and improved it as I tell you. She had the handsomest girl I 
ever laid my eyes on in her charge. I played for her, too, and 
made sure I had her, but she euchred me shamefully. I will tell 
you all about it when I see you, and you will laugh at the dodge 
by which she checkmated me. On the whole, I am not sorry 
that I made this trip. I have learned a good deal among the 
Yankees. I would not now be afraid to tackle Jim Becket him- 
self in any game he wishes to start. The steamer reached San 
Francisco yesterday, and I am going to Sacramento this evening 
on the Senator." 

"Well," said Ward; "this is an additional reason why you 
should be off. See Wild on reaching Sacramento. You will un- 
doubtedly find him in tow of Black Dave. Tell him of our 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 477 

plans, and of the necessity of keeping out of mischief just 
now." 

Early the next morning Brown left High Canyon, shaking 
hands warmly with Walter, and politely with Hilton. Ward, tak- 
ing a good opportunity, that day, while Walter and he were seated 
on a rock some distance from the store, fell into the most ex- 
travagant praises of Brown; saying that he was from Canada, 
and of one of the first families in that country; that he had some 
money of his own, but not enough to start a good business. 
Ward then said that he intended to advance him whatever money 
he should want, and concluded by saying: 

" I wish, my dear fellow, you could see your way to sell out 
here, and come down to the bay and go into partnership with 
Brown; you would just suit each other, and in one year in San 
Francisco you would make more than you can in five here. Then 
I could run my ship in connection with your house, and that 
would help you, as well as make a very nice business for me." 

Walter seemed dazzled at the proposition, and for a moment 
did not speak; so Ward ran on: 

' ' Then you could send for your dear mother and sister, and we 
would form a little society among ourselves that would be per- 
fectly delightful, you know." 

"Well," said Walter, thoughtfully; "that does look as if it 
would be nice; and then you could run your ship in connection 
with those belonging to James De Forest's line; and that would 
be first rate, too." 

As Walter spoke the name of James De Forest, Ward gave a 
visible start, and for an instant there was a dark shadow in his 
eyes. 

"What is the matter, Captain?" said Walter, looking anx- 
iously. 

" Oh, nothing, my dear fellow," said the Captain, laughing, 
and looking down on the seat he had just risen from. " Some- 
thing hurt mo, and I feared a rattlesnake; but I see it was only 
a sharp corner of the rock." 

After this, they often talked of the San Francisco plan, and 
each time Ward found Walter more and more attracted by it. 
Early one morning, a day or two after Brown's departure, Mr. 
Hilton took an opportunity of talking to Walter. Ho expressed 
his surprise that Walter should be so carried away in his admir- 
ation of Ward. 



478 PIONEER TIMES IX CALIF0R>1A. 

" I will tell you, candidly, Walter, that I do not share your 
feelings toward this man ; there is something I cannot fathom 
about him. I am satisfied he is not what he seems to be. I have 
observed him closely, and at times when he supposed himself un- 
obsei-ved, there was an unaccountably disagreeable expression in 
liis features." 

" Oh, friend Hilton, you are always suspicious of all but those 
you have known for a life-time." 

" No, friend Walter; you do me injustice in saying that, and 
all I want in this case is to put you on your guard ; there is no 
barm in being careful, j'ou know, even if you are right and I 
wrong in our estimation of this Captain Ward." 

" Oh, well, that is all right; depend on it, I will be careful be- 
fore taking his advice in anything, or trusting him too much." 
And so the subject dropped. As they approached the store to- 
gether, a boy rode up with a letter for Walter. It was indorsed: 
"The express agent at Downieville is requested to forward 
this letter without delay to High Canyon." 

When Walter read this indorsement, he turned to the boy, 
and said, sharply : 

" When did this letter get to Downieville ?" 

*' Last night, sir ; but so late we could not send it." 

Walter, in evident alarm, tore it open, and read as follows : 

Deak Waltei; : — Allow me to congratulate yoii ou the arrival in your 
camp of your sister Minnie, who is no doubt now safe with you. I was sorry 
I was not at home the day her note announcing her i.rrival, and making in- 
quiries for you, was brought to our store, but both Mr. Wheeler and myself 
were absent from the city, and the bookkeeper, who opened the note, knew 
nothing about you or your sister, and returned the note, only indorsing ou 
the back that we were not at home, and that we knew nothing of your move- 
ments. Ou getting home to-day, the bookkeeper mentioned the circumstance 
to me, which surprised me very much ; as you had not advised me that your 
sister was coming out to you. I went immediately to the bo!\rding-house 
that I understood the note had come from. It is kept by a very respectable 
woman, by the name of Donnelly. This Mrs. Donnelly then told me of the 
circumstance which caused Miss Minnie to stop there ; which, of coiirse, sho 
has told you all about, and how frightened she was that you were not in the 
city to me«>t her ; and of how terribly puzzled she was as to what to do ; for, 
as Mrs. Donnelly said : " This boarding-house wa.s no place for a lady 
like her to stop in, and that sho could not go to any other or to a hotel, 
because she was alone." So, in the end, she had to adopt the desperate ex- 
pedient of assuming a disguise in boy's clothes, and starting the next day, 
that is, yesterday, for Sacramento, on board the Senator. I am sure she is 



MONEER TIMES IN CALIPORNt\. 470 

safe with you; yot I tbonp:ht it better to ■write nnd give yoi; all these particu- 
lars; for sickuess. or aocideut, of course, is possible. The Panama steamer 
arrived bore on the "itith ; Miss Minnie left here on the '27tb, and should be 
with you on the evening of the 29th, as, of course, she is ; so, present her 
my warmest regards, and, believe me, yours, Edmund F. Allen. 

P. S. — Since writing the above, I met your old friend, DeForest, who has 
just arrived from Oregon. I told him that Miss Minnie had come from the 
East, and had gone up to you yesterday, without giving him any of the par- 
tionlai-s. He tells me that he will go to see yoti to-morrow ; so, you may ex- 
pect him the day after you get this letter. A. 

As Walter read the letter, he grew deadly pale, and trembled 
in oveiy limb. As he finished he threw it to Hilton, and tried 
to speak, but his words choked on each other, and, without 
speaking, he ran to the store. He pulled down his saddle and 
bridle from where they hung; then he ran for his revolver, 
buckled it on, then thrust a bowie-knife in his belt. In all he 
seemed in confusion, and unable to control himself. 

Hilton rapidly read the letter through, then said, in a calm, 
half-commanding voice: 

" Now, Walter "Wagner, be calm; be a man, and listen to me, 
and do just as I tell you and things may all be right yet." 

Walter stopped up still, and, looking into Hilton's face with a 
sort of an imploring expression, said, just above his breath, 
while his lips were bloodless and quivering: 

" Hilton, she should have been here the night before last." 

" I know all that, but many things may have stopped her. 
She may have concluded to wait for you in Sacramento or Marys- 
ville; but I tell you to be a man, Walter. You believe in God; 
trust in Him. I tell you that we will find your sister safe if you 
only retain your presence of mind and act the man." 

Wttlter now regained his color, and became perfectly calm un- 
der Hilton's commanding words, and proceeded with good judg- 
ment in his preparations for an immediate start on the search 
for his darling sister. Captain Ward came in, and, on learning 
the strange news, offered to join the search. His offer was ac- 
cepted. So, leaving a trusty young fellow of the name of Ferris 
in charge of the store, Walter, Hilton and Ward started down to 
Downieville, and there procured good, reliable horses. Now, all 
ready and armed at every point, they dashed up the terribly 
steep trail that led, at that time, out of Downieville over the 
mountain. Ward had not seen nor heard read any of the par- 
ticulars in the letter from Mr. Allen, and, therefore, knew noth- 



4S0 PIOXEEK TIMES IX CALIFOEXIA. 

iug of the probability of meeting De Forest on their ride. He 
murmured to himself, as he urged his hoi'se up the trail: 

'• \\'ell, if some fellow has not yet got her, which I do not 
think likeh", T wii have a chance to capture her sooner than I ex- 
pected. I will have the whole thing fixed up before that fellow 
De Forest knows she is in the country." 

On, on, Walter dashed. On reaching the summit, Hilton is by 
his side, but Ward is far behind, for riding on horse-back is no 
" quarter-deck " exercise for him. 



CHAPTER IX. 



DISOOVEEY — WILD AND JIM BECKET IN DANGER. 

Now, my dear readers, let us returu to poor Minnie, and stand 
by her in sympathy dui'iug the terrible night now before her. 
There she sits all to herself on the promenade deck of the 
Senator, leaning over the after guard-rail, looking down on 
the foaming track of the steamer as it ploughs its way up to 
Benicia. The supper bell rings, and Minnie cannot go to eat at 
the table; that would be too great a trial of her disguise, but she 
is provided for this, by tbe thoughtful, good Mrs. Donnelly, and 
now pulls out of her great over-coat pocket a nice little lunch, 
which she eats of with a relish, for, as yet, her mind is at rest, 
and free from all fear of discovery. While she is eating, the boat 
stops at Benicia, and now again shoves off into the stream, and 
dashes on its lonesome way up the dark river. 

AVheu the landing was made at Benicia, nearly all those seated 
in the after part of the boat near Minnie, attracted by curiosity, 
had left their places to take a look at the landing, or town, which 
at that time consisted of only three or four houses, or store- 
houses, close to the water. Minnie, alone, remained behind; but 
she was not long alone. Two men walked aft, and sat down very 
near her. They were talking earnestly, and in a low voice. But 
the moment Minnie's ear caught the sound of one of the voices, 
her heart quailed within her, her eyes grew dim, and, trembling in 
every limb like an aspen leaf, she sank her face between both 
her hands, resting on the guard-rail, and for a moment was half 
unconscious, while a cold perspiration started from her forehead 
in large drops, and trickled down between her cold little fin- 
gers and bedewed her whole hands. Something within her, or 
near her, seemed now to whisper: " Courage, Minnie, courage; 
recollect Walter always said you were not only a woman grown, 

but a great little woman, too. " Then she struggled within her- 
oJL 



48^ 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALIEOENIA. 



self for composure, murmuring an earnest prayer o God for aid. 
Courage came with a consciousness that she was in no immediate 
danger, and, remaining perfectly still, she assumed a position of 
one in sleep. The two men near her had evidently sought that 
retired place to plot something they were mutually interested in. 
The conference concluded by one whose voice was strange to 
Minnie, saying: 

" Now, "Wild, if you do just as I tell you, Jim Becket will find 
that he has his match to-night, if he never had it before." 

" All right, Mack, said Wild; '•' I will have my eyes on you and 
catch every sign you make me without attracting Jim's notice; so 
let us go, or he may get into a game with some other parties." 

Oh ! what a relief to Minnie when she found herself once 
more alone. Obeying the first impulse, she put her hand into her 
bosom and drew from it her little dagger, looked at it, and re- 
placed it, saying: 

" Yes; it is all right. God grant I may never have to use it." 

The night had now grown very cold, and this place where 
Minnie sat had become almost frightful to her from the alarm 
she had just gone through; and, fearing the return of the confed- 
erates to council there again, she made up her mind to look for 
some place more sheltered from the cold, and more retired, if 
possible ; so, she arose, and carefully adjusting her disguise, de- 
scended to the cabin, and cautiously looked all around for a shel- 
tered spot to stow herself into. She soon spied a vacant seat, 
where she thought she would be safe from observation, and 
where she could lean her head forward on the rail that guarded 
the gangway, so as to keej) her face out of view. Taking this 
seat, she was now as comfortable as she could be under the cir- 
cumstances. But the night wore heavily to poor Minnie's fright- 
ened heart. 

•' Oh, it was a frightful risk to run," she murmured, " to come 
here in this way. I feel now that it would be new life to me if 
I could get back in my own clothes, even here, and alone. Oh, 
yes; I see now that I made a terrible mistake, and that I would 
be as courageous as a lion, and that I could face the whole steam- 
boat, full of villainous men, if I were only in my own proper 
garb. But, now, what can I say, or who will believe that I am 
innocent, if I should happen to be discovered ? Oh, yes; I see 
it all, now ; for, as my father often said : * There never was a 
crowd of men together, all so bad as to refuse protection to a 



MONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 483 

woman, when properly appealed, to.' But, can I apj)ly for it 
properly, in this detestable disguise ? But I intended no fault; 
and God will, I am sure, save me." 

That night the boat ran on a mud bar, either through a blun- 
der of the pilot, or on account of uncommonly low water, and 
was detained nearl}' two hours in that position, which made 
this trip of the Senator a long and tedious one. As the 
hour of twelve was past, nearly every passenger, for very few 
took berths, was stretched on the floor or across a table, or lay 
on chairs ; all fast asleep. Minnie feared to sleep, and fought it 
off for a long time ; but at length it overpowered her, and now, 
once upon her, it became heavy and profound, for she was worn 
out with anxietj' and alarm. The position she had to lie in be- 
came painful in sleep, and she naturally, without awakening, 
turned her head and placed it in a more comfortable position, 
resting sideways on her hands as they held the guard, rail ; but, 
in this move her wide-brimmed, slouched hat dropped to the 
floor at her feet, leaving her whole head exposed. The light 
from a suspended lamp near her shone bright on her beautiful 
features; so she rested, unconscious of her danger. In a little 
while afterward, two men came out from a state-room, where, it 
was evident, they were engaged in gambling, and advanced to 
the stairway descending to the lower deck. Oh, Minnie, one of 
them is the villain Wild, who, just as he is about to step on 
the stairway, stops short, and his eyes are now fixed on your 
sleejoing face ! He seizes his companion tightly by the arm, and 
draws him back, while he places his finger across his lips to de- 
note silence, and whispers in excited exultation : 

' ' Oh ! it is her, the very girl I told you of, that so dodged me 
on the steamer. Oh, she cannot escape me now, for she is in 
man's clothes, and no one will be such a fool as to give her any 
help. If she makes any fuss, I will claim she is a runaway sis- 
ter of mine. Oh, I am all right now ; she cannot escape me. I 
always had my doubts but that she was playing off ; for, how 
could she be with that sort of a woman I found her with if she 
was all right?" 

" Come," said his companion, " let us take a look at her." 
And now both men stood for a moment near her in silence; and, 
as they turned away, the stranger said : 

" By the Lord Harry ! she is handsome, sure enough ; but I 
don't see. Wild, that you have any particular claim on her. I 



484 PIONEER TIMES IN CALrPORNIA. 

have just as much myself ; and, as she disliked you, by your own 
story, you had better just let me manage her." 

" Not a d — d bit of it ; I will never give her up. I will have 
her now, or die." 

"You will, you say ?" 

"Yes; I do say so." 

" Well, let us not quarrel over her, or neither of us will get 
her. I tell you what I will do; I will leave the dispute to Jim 
Becket to decide." 

" Agreed," said Wild; and they both returned to the state- 
room. 

Here they found Jim and another man smoking, waiting for 
the refreshments Wild had gone to order. The case was soon 
laid before Jim, with the whole story of Wild's former acquaint- 
ance with the girl on board the steamer, and how she escaped 
from him, and how it was he who discovered her here to-night. 

Jim took the cigar out of his mouth, brushed the ashes off, 
and said: 

" Go, Wild, and order the refreshments we sent you for; and 
while you are gone we will all take a look at this beauty, that 
appears to be lying around loose, waiting for an owner; and, as 
we refresh ourselves, I will decide the whole question, if you 
wish to leave it to me." 

So Wild left to order the drinks, and the other three went to 
where Minnie slept on, all unconscious of her fearful situation. 
They each gazed earnestly into her face, and then turned away. 
As they entered the room again, Becket said: 

" What a pity! She is beautiful, and little more than a child in 
years; and she looks as innocent as an infant in sleep. Yet, 
how could she come in those clothes if she was all right. Poor 
child! Some big villain has decoyed her from her home, and if 
the Devil does not get him, whoever he is, there is no use in 
having a Devil, that I see. " 

The third man now put in a claim for the girl, which made 
Wild look furious . 

" Well," said Becket, after they had half emptied their glasses 
all around, " this matter is to be left to me to decide, is it?" 

The other three men all assented. 

" And you promise,^' continued Becket, " to stand by my de- 
cision and enforce it ?" 

Wild looked dissatisfied, but, as all the rest agreed to it, he 
also gave in his consent. 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 485 

"Well, then; I decide in this way: We all four want the 
girl—" 

" All four?" exclaimed Wild, in surprise. 

"Yes, Mr. Wild; I say we all four want this girl; and as 
each one of us has just the same right to her as any one of the 
other three, and no more, it is necessarj' the matter should be 
decided in some fair way; so I decide that we play another game 
at cards, aud that the winner takes the girl, and that those who 
lose support the claim of the winner against all opposition." 

" Agreed, agreed," exclaimed each one, and the glasses were 
emj)tied and laid away. 

Then the cards were dealt, and all entered into the game with 
intense interest and suppressed excitement. The game is played, 
and Wild leaj)s to his feet in exultation, for he is the winner. 

Becket felt sure that he himself would have won, and now 
looks with puzzled astonishment at Wild; for he is satisfied that 
in some way he won the game unfairly; but how he cannot 
imagine. Becket is the more puzzled, as this is the second time 
to-night Wild has baffled him at cards. The man Wild had ad- 
dressed as Mack had a peculiar smile on his face, while he looked 
at Wild. Wild gave him a meaning look in return, and Mack 
said nothing. They all now arose. Wild saying: 

" Well, gentlemen, I will go and attend to my girl; and I 
hope that, in accordance with our agreement, you will all stay 
near at hand to support my claim of being her brother; for, of 
course, you know she is my runaway sister." 

As they left the state-room. Mack took an opportunity to draw 
Wild aside, when the others were not observing them, and whis- 
pered in his ear: 

" You don't take me for a d — d fool, do you ?" 

"No, of course not; but hold your tongue, and help me to 
get the girl to Sally Jones', in Sacramento, and I swear to you 
I will play a fair game with you to decide which of us shall have 
her." 

" That is talking sense," said Mack, " and I agree to it; but 
be careful, for I see Jim is watching us both, and susj^ects us, 
and if he discovers our game, we had both better get out of Cali- 
fornia." 

" All right, I understand; and between you and me it must be 
' honor bright,' or we will both go in." 

Just then Becket and his companion came up, and Jim said to 
Wild, as he drew his watch out: 



486 pio>t:er xmzs ix c.\lifornx\. 

" I see it only wants a few minutes of two o'clock, and tbe 
pilot says we will be at the wharf iu Sacramento in one hour. 
The gii'l will soon awake — what is your plan '?"' 

" Oh, well, this is my plan, gentlemen: When my sister, you 
know, awakes I -^-ill let her know that her brother has found 
lier, and that she will have to come with me to my very re- 
spectable aunt's, Mi-s. Sarah Jones, you know. She will, of 
course, make a fuss, and deny that I am her brother, and, per- 
haps, call me ugly names, you know, gentlemen, so that my 
friends, who have long known me like yourselves, gentlemen, 
■will then come forward and corroborate my story. Then my 
sister will be rushed along in the crowd, Avith you three gentle- 
men here close up to us, and, with my arm gently around her 
delicate waist until I get her into a hack, and off we go to our 
aunt's, who will receive her lost niece with open ai-ms, you 
know. Yes; my plan will work nicely if you, my friends, will 
only stand by me." 

'' Pretty well planned," said Jim, in a slow, measured voice, 
■while a contemptuous smile was on his lips, and he continued: 
" I would hate to be able to plan the part of a villaiu as well as 
that." 

" No compliments now, 3Ir. Becket, if you please; you make 
me blush, aud I have a delicate task just before me, which takes 
all my thoughts, you know. It is to reconcile my poor lost sister 
to return to the arms of her sorrowing aunt." 

Becket made no remark on this speech, but invited them all 
to go below and have a drink. \\'ild and Mack declined with 
thanks, just as Jim had expected them to do, so he and his 
friend descended to the bar. As soon as they were out of sight, 
Becket addressed his companion: 

" Tom, it is too d — d bad to let these two Sydney villains take 
off that poor girl, whoever she is, and, perhaps, murder her in 
the end; yet, what can we do? Our word at plaj- is up for it." 

"Yes, Jim, I just think as you do; but, as you say, what can 
■we do ■? How can we break our word when once given, even to 
Sydney ducks." 

" Look here, Tom, since the fii-st day I ever played a card, I 
never broke my word when given, as you say, in a game; but 
these two fellows have played us false iu every game they played 
to-night, though I could not detect them." 

"Yes," said Tom; " I know that well enough, and they are 



PIONEER TIMES IX a^LIFORNU. 



487 



now in cahoots in some way, you can see^ about this girl." 

" Yes; of course tbey are. Well, I tell you what; Tom, let us 
go back and pretend to give in with good will in helping Wild to 
get the girl away, and after she awakes let you, on some pre- 
tence, manage to have me left alone with her, and I will soon 
judge if she is some poor child that has t)nly left home for the 
first time, perhaps, and is not actually bad. Perhaps she is only 
making her way to some lover, who has promised to marry her 
as soon as she comes to where he lives. By the way she acted 
on the Panama steamer, by Wild's own account, it looks as if 
this ma}- be the truth; anyway, if I get an opportunit}-, I will 
find out, and, if there is even a chance of her being innocent 
these Sydney thieves shall never have her while I have a shot 
left in my revolver; for my blood fairly boils at the idea of a 
poor American girl being in the power of those vile Sydney 
villains." 

" Well, all right, Jim ; let us go back and watch our chances." 
On returning on deck, they found Wild and Mack seated a little 
way ofl' from Minnie, who yet slept, though now she began 
to be restless and uneasy, and once or twice changed her posi- 
tion. Becket and Tom assumed a gay, friendly demeanor, and 
Jim said : 

" Now, Wild, you will have to be very gentle with youi- girl 
when she awakes ; you must coax her, and assure her you will 
be her friend ; and then let each of us go separately to her and 
advise her, and I think I can persuade her to trust hei-self to 
your protection. Find out if she has any particular place, you 
know, she wants to go to, and ofier to take her there ; and I will 
then go and tell her you are a first-rate, honorable fellow, and 
will not deceive her ; and all that sort of thing." 

"I do believe, Jim," said Wild, '' that you could do more with 
her in that way, than anj' of us; for you have a sort of an hon- 
est look, Jim, if I do say it to your face ; and she will believe 
you, I am sure." 

" Yes," said Tom ; " Jim can manage her better than auv of 
us." 

" Well, now, if I help you, Wild, you know I will go around 
to Aunt Sally's in a day or two to see the girl, for she is the hand- 
somest piece I have seen since I left Baltimore." 

" Oh, that is all right, Jim; I will be glad to see you, and you 
will find that I will not be selfish." 



488 PIONEER TIMES IX CALIFOBXIA. 

"Well, Wild," said Jim, "we will see what can be done for 
you when your beauty awakes." 

Just then Minnie sat up, and, with a half-frightened start, 
raised both her hands to her head ; and, missing the hat, darted 
a look to her feet, where it lay. She snatched it up, and, while 
replacing it on her head, glanced all around to see if she was 
observed. As her eyes rested on the four men, talking, as if in 
consultation, she distinctly saw Wild's gaze full on her. A sup- 
pressed, deep moan, escaped her as she bui'ied her face in her 
hands, resting on the guard-rail before her. Again, the terrible 
fear seized her, and shook her whole frame ; again the cold drops 
from her forehead trickled through her fingers. " Oh, my God," 
she murmured, ' ' I believe you to be here in your Almighty power, 
to save and guard me, just the same as if I were in my own lit- 
tle bed in my mother's house ; and I ask and beseech you to save 
me from harm. Oh, save me, my God, from dishonor and shame, 
and in all thiugs else do with me as Thou wilt." Then, pausing, 
with her thoughts all on God, she struggled with herself ; and, 
concentrating all the powers of her will, she said, without the 
least mental reservation: " Thy will, Oh God, not mine, be done." 
Then, something again seemed to whisper to her : " Courage, 
Minnie, courage ; God is near you." She heard a step approach- 
ing, and, looking up, Wild stood over her. 

"Do not be frightened, JNIiss Minnie," he said, assuming a 
careless, pleasant voice; " I am a friend of yours, only anxious 
to serve you." 

Minnie's natural, true woman's courage, ever the accompani- 
ment of conscious innocence and purity, had now regained its 
place, and enabled her to face the danger upon her, with com- 
parative composure. 

" Sir, I want none of your assistance ; nor will I accept any 
from you. You will therefore oblige me by leaving me at once." 

" Oh, I could not think of leaving you unprotected, while you 
are in that becoming rig, you know." 

"If you do not leave me, I will call the Captain, and ask his 
protection." 

At this Wild laughed. " Call the Captain ?" he repeated. "If 
you do, Minnie, I will have to tell the Captain what you know is 
true ; that you are my sister, running away from your virtuous 
home in disguise, you know." And Wild again laughed. Min- 
nie's cheek blanched, as she said : 

"But he will not believe such a wicked story." 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALITORNU. 489 

"Not believe it? Oh, yes, Minnie; be will believe anything 
of a girl in men's clothes, you know ; and then I have thi-ee gen- 
tlemen here," pointing to where his confederates stood, " who 
know you and me for many years, and they will tell the Captain 
that you are my sister." 

" Oh, they cannot be such mean villains as to do that." 

" No, they are not villains; they are known to be highly re- 
spectable gentlemen, and they will tell the Captain that you are 
my runaway sister; and he will give me men to help me to take 
you home, you know." 

Minnie now seemed unable to control herself, and, rising from 
her seat, looked every way for a chance of escape. Her eyes 
were perfectly wild and almost fierce. She darted her hand into 
her bosom, and, while she seemed to catch something there, her 
gaze rested right on "Wild's cowardly eyes. He comprehended 
the movement of tlie maddened girl, and quickly fell back four 
or five paces, saying: 

" Miss Minnie, I meant you no harm. Forgive me." 

It was a derringer he feared, and he knew he dare not draw 
his own weapon on a woman, even if she was in men's clothes. 
His shrinking cowardice came in time to save Minnie. Her 
eyes softened, and she said to herself as she withdrew her hand, 
" No; this is not the time for that," and turning to Wild, she 
continued aloud: 

"I tell you, sir, leave me instantly; leave me alone; that is 
all I ask of you." 

"VV^ild hesitated for a moment, then said : 

" If you put yourself under my protection, I will see you safe 
to w'hatever house or hotel you wish to go to. If you refuse my 
protection, I tell you it will be worse for you, now that you are 
known to be a girl in disguise." 

The reaction from the fit of fierce wildness that had just jDassed 
over Minnie came, and, feeling half-sick and weak, she sat back 
in her seat without answering, and again covered her face Avith 
her hands in almost despair. 

Wild was puzzled how to proceed, and, withdrawing to his 
friends, he said: 

" I tell you she will be hard to manage, and I see she has a 
weapon in her bosom, and as a last resort she will use it, too; but 
I will not give her up, and have come to the conclusion that the 
best way will be to wait until the crowd is leaving the boat; then 



■LdO PIONEER TIMES IX CAT.TFORSIA. 

let US all foiu" crowd arouiid lier, and, as we reach tlie wharf, I 
will catch her in ruy arms and thrust my hand in her bosom, and 
get that weapon, whatever it is that she has there; then the rest 
will be easily managed in the rushing crowd."' 

'• Well, that is a good plan,"' said Becket. " But yet, there 
is some risk about it, and, if you wish, I will try to talk her into 
going to the hotel under your protection; I believe I can do it. 
I will talli as though I had no interest in the matter, but as a 
friend, giving her advice." 

Tom at once saw this to be " a lirst rate idea,'" as he said, and, 
turning to Wild, said: " Come; while Jim is trying his hand 
in bringing this little charmer of youi's' to a sense of her true 
interest, let us go and get a drink; I am awful dry." 

"Well, that is my hand, too, Tom," said Wild, who was evi- 
dently excited and nervous, and anxious for a drink, to enable 
him to regain his composure. 

Just as they were leaving for the lower deck. Wild caught 
Becket by the shoulder, and, drawing him close to him, whis- 
pered : 

•• Mind, Jim, she is armed, I know." 

" Don"t fear, I will keep my eyes open," was Becket's prompt 
answer. 

While their drinks were being concocted to each one's taste 
Wild, yet half excited, said: 

" I tell you, boys, I never saw such a look out of human eyes 
before as that girl gave me. Oh, I will pay her for it yet. I 
have looked into a gambler's eye when we both had our ii'ons, 
ready cocked, leveled at each other's heads, without flinching a 
hair; yes, I have shot down my man under just such circum- 
stances; but the look of that girl. I tell you, boys, just took the 
starch out of me, from my head to my toes; but I will yet bring 
her in my power, and that look will never be there again." 

Tom drank slowly, and amused his companions with long 
yarns, so as to detain them as long as possible. 

Jim Becket was a thick-set, well-built man, a little under mid- 
dle height; and my recollection of him is that he had fair hair, 
a high forehead above a pair of piercing, bright eyes, that looked 
always calm, but always searching, while you talked to him; as 
a whole, he was decidedly good-looking, and had a very friendly 
expression of countenance. As he now approached Minnie, she 
looked earnestly at him, but aroused hei"self, to be fully pre- 






PIONEER TIMES IX CALIFOR>TA. 401 

pared for anything, and gave no show of fear. Jim said, iu a 
voice of marked respect, so aa not to ahvrm her: 

" Young hidy, do not fear me. I come as a friend, and shall 
ask you a few questions, and, if you can answer them to my sat- 
isfaction, I will stand by you with my revolver in hand, if that 
should be necessary, to defend you from hann. That you may 
know why I come, I Avill tell you that this man AVild, who, it 
appears, you knesv before, discovered you while you slept, and you 
being here alone in men's clothes made us all believe that j-ou 
would not be very particular as to who might claim j^our com- 
pany; so we played a game of cards for you, and Wild was the 
winner." 

While Becket spoke, Minnie's eyes were riveted on his face, 
trying to read his inmost thoughts, so as to guide her conduct 
towards him. Now, as he told her about the game played for 
her, she started and clasped both her hands before her, while 
her gaze was yet steadfast on his face, and exclaimed: 

''Oh, sir, ask the questions; anj- questions; for you look 
honest and true, and I will answer all with truth, to which I will 
call God to witness."' 

" Tell me, then, who you really and truly are; how did you 
come to put those clothes on, and where are 3"ou now, in fact 
and iu truth, going ■?'" 

Minnie in a quick, decided voice, without changing her eyes 
from Becket's face, answered the questions clearly and to the 
point. As she finished, Becket said: 

" Wagner — Walter Wagner — I do not recollect him. He was 
never iu my rooms, that is clear; but that is not against him. 
Who did you saj' his partner was near Downieville ?" 
"Isaac Hilton," said Minnie. 

" Isaac Hilton ; aye, yes, I know him; we traveled together 
once." 

Then, after a minute's pause, Becket resumed: 
" Well, I can depend, then, that all you have told me is just 
the plain truth; for, to protect you, I have to do what I never 
did before, break my word given iu a game; nor would I do it 
now for ail the money in Burgoyne & Co.'s bank, but to protect 
an innocent girl from shame. I would be justified, and will deal 
with this villain Wild without fear of consequences., if you are 
the girl you say you are." 

*• Oh, sir; do not doubt me; every word I have spoken is true, 



492 PIOXEEE TIMES IX CALTFOIOrU. 

as true as that there is a God iu Heaven above us. Or, if you 
do not believe me, and will not save me, then in pity take me 
and thrown me into that river, for then my mother and brother 
would only hear that I was dead."' 

Now her face grew calm, and her voice steady, as she con- 
tinued : 

" Dead they may heai* that I am, but they shall never hear of 
my shame nor dishonor; for God will not permit that, I know."' 

Becket, fuJl of admii-ation and deep sympathy, could not at 
once command his voice to speak; and, from this silence, poor 
Minnie feared he yet hesitated to become her friend. A desper- 
ate feeling of almost despair agiun came on her, and, obeying a 
sudden impulse to make a last appeal for protection, she sprang 
to her feet, stepped close to Becket, and, placing a hand on each 
of his shoulders, while eveiy lineament of her features lit up 
Avith an expression of intense entreaty, she exclaimed: 

'• Oh, sir, have you a mother or a sister ? Oh, if you have, In- 
all the love and care they ever bestowed on you, save me I Oh, 
save me from dishonor; for, if aught befell me, my mother's heart 
would break, and my poor brother would \vither away and die ! 
Save me, and I will be to you a sister while life lasts! Save an 
unprotected girl, and God will bless and make your last hour 
happy!" 

In a voice trembling with excitement, Becket said: 

"Be calm and fear not; I will t;ike you at your word. I am 
now your second brother, and will save you or die in the at- 
tempt." 

Minnie's only answer was to grasp her protector's hand, raise 
it to her lips, and kiss it with wild emotion. 

•* Now," said Becket, '• we have not a moment to lose. We 
are approaching Sacramento. The moment the boat nears the 
wharf I will leap on shore to make arrangements for your es- 
cape. And now listen to evei-y word I say, and do not lose a 
syllable of it. I will now go down and see Wild, and will tell 
him that you have agreed to go with him to the Eagle Hotel, 
if he acts right to you; he will then come and sit near you; tell 
him that you have agreed to take his protection, provided he 
acts the gentleman towards you, and makes no disagreeable 
advances. Then, when the boat touches, wait a little before you 
go on shore, but not too long, for I want a crowd on the wharf 
when you reach it. When the plank is adjusted, take his arm 



PIOXEER TIMES IK CALIFORNIA. 493 

aud walk slowly with him to the wharf. The moment }-ou put 
your foot on the wharf, look for a man with a white handkerchief 
tied ou his hat, and, with a sudden spring, rush to him. He 
will throw his arm around your waist, and in a minute more you 
will be in a hack, driven off. Trust the driver as you would 
your brother; for he will be under my directions, and I will 
soon join you. Now, to sum it up over again. Your part is this: 
You are to play off this fellow Wild, so as to make him satisfied, 
aud the moment you reach the wharf, with a bound, you are to 
be in the arms of the man with the white handkerchief on his 
hat. Do you undei'stand all now perfectly, and do you trust me 
as a brother ?" 

" I understand all perfectly, aud I trust you with my life and 
all. without a shadow of fear or doubt, and will obey you in 
everything, because you arc now my brother." 

Minnie spoke in a clear, low whisper, and Becket was satis- 
fied that it would not be her fault if his plan failed. 

" Now, Minnie," said Becket, ''pray to God for help. He will 
hear you when my prayei's would have no claim." 

Then Becket was ou his way down the stairway to inform his 
friends of his success. They were all apparently highly pleased. 
Becket told "Wild that he had pledged his word that he would be 
gentle and considerate in his conduct while conducting her'to 
the Eagle Hotel. "Wild laughed, and said: 

"Oh, go to the Eagle Hotel; that is all right. Don't you 
fear, Jim; I will play my part well. Yes; I will be a perfect 
gentleman until dear Aunt Sally has the door locked behind us 
both. Then I will politely take that little derringer, or what- 
ever that is she has in her bosom, away from her. Oh, yes; I 
will take that away just to be sure, you know, that Aunt Sally 
or myself won't require a surgeon, or may be the coroner, at un- 
reasonable hours, you know." 

Here "Wild laughed heartily, and continued: 

" Thank you, Jim; thank you. Come, let us all have a drink. 
What will you all have, gentlemen ? When will we expect 3'ou 
at Aunt Sally's, Jim ?" 

" Oh, I will not be unreasonable. Wild. Y'ou won the girl 
faii'ly; I will call in a week or so." 

" Well, well; as you say, I won the girl fairly, Jim; and you 
will be welcome whenever you do come; and by that time my 
little pet will receive you most charmingly; for she will see that 



494 PIONEEK TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 

you knew better than herself where she wanted to go. But I 
must be off to play my part." As he started upstairs, Mack fol- 
lowed him, saying: 

" Introduce me, Wild.'' 

'' Oh, yes; come." 

Becket looked after them, muttering low to Tom: 

" A- precious pair of rascals. If I owed the Devil a thousand 
scamps, he would give me a receipt in full for those two 
fellows." 

Then Jim told Tom all about his interview and its result, and 
his plan of escape, concluding with: 

" Now, when they are leaving the boat you stay close to Mack, 
and when the girl jumps away, of course he will run to help 
Wild to recover her; and as he springs forward be ready to trip 
him up, as if by accident, and if in this way you can hold him 
back a little, I feel sure that all will go right." 

In ten minutes more, the Senator was trying to get into her 
place by the Sacramento wharf. Becket was a constant visitor 
to Sacramento, and knew exactly what he was about. On the 
first touch the boat gave the wharf, Jim had leaped upon it. At 
a little distance back stood three or four hacks in waiting. On 
one of them sat a large man, while another stood near its door. 
In a minute J im had his hand on the shoulder of the man near 
the door, saying, as he peered into his face: 

" Is this you, Jerry ?" 

'• Yes, sir, Mr. Jim; it is myself, of course. You are in a 
hurry, I see, sir; jump in, jump in." And he threw the door oj^en. 

"No, Jerry; I am not going myself; but listen and mind every 
word I tell you, for we have not a minute to lose. " 

" All right, sir ; go on, sir." 

Then Jim instructed him in a few but distinct words, saying 
at the end: 

" Do you understand me now, Jerry ?" 

" Yes, sir; and sure I do; what would ail me that I would not ? 
Give me the handkerchief. There, now, I am ready. And 
where am I to drive her to? for I know the boy is a girl from 
what you say, Mr. Jim; and sure it's I that always likes to take 
care of the girls." 

"None of your fooling, Jerry. Listen; I want to get some 
one who will just step up and knock the fellow down who will 
be running after the boy, you know." 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALITORNIA. 495 

" Yes, sir; and sure it is Tim Finnigan, on the seat here by 
me, who is just the man we want for that. Do 3^ou only want one 
knocked down, sir? He could settle three just as well as one, 
while I am putting the hoy, as you call her, in the hack." 

" Well, he may have to let into two of them, but that is the 
most." 

"Ah, well; that will be only fun for him. Come down, Tim, 
and get j'our instructions from my friend, James Becket, Esq., 
of San Francisco, that I know ever since the first part of '49. 
God bless us." 

Now Tim was instructed, and all ready. Becket then turned 
to Jerry, saying: 

" Now, Jerry, when you get the boy in the hack, drive for the 
Marysville road as fast as the team can take you; but do not take 
the direct road from here, you know. Rush round among the 
streets in any way that you think will throw any one following 
you off of your track. When you get clear of the town, you 
will see a large vacant building 'with the window sashes out of 
the front windows, and wait there until I come to you, if I am 
not there before you. Now, I must stand out of the way, and 
leave you, Jerry, to manage all; and depend on good pay, both 
for yourself and Finnigan." 

" Well, if Tim has but one to knock down, he won't charge you 
much, Mr. Jim; but, for the matter of that, we know our pay is 
all right from the likes of you, Mr. Jim. It is handing you back 
some of it I expect to be, and not asking for more; so God bless 
you, and leave it all to us, for I understand everything now; and 
if she, the boy, I mean, only runs to me, as you say she will, 
and the girls always had a way of running for me, I will meet 
you where you say, or will kill my horses outright in trying to 
do so." 

Becket now took his place behind a pile of lumber, from where 
he could see all that transpired. Just as he got into position, 
the plank from the boat fell on the wharf. Becket saw Tim Fin- 
nigan standing in a pugilistic attitude about four paces in tront 
of the hack, while Jerry, with the white handkerchief tied on 
his hat, walked carelessly towards the rushing crowd, as they 
came from the long plank that stretched to the Senator. Then 
there was a sudden fuss or rush on the plank, and now a boy 
dashed out like an arrow, and caught Jerry's coat collar. In an 
instant Jerry's powerful arm was around the boy's waist, whose 



496 PION'EER TIMES IN CAUFOENTA. 

slouched bat fell to the ground. Now, with a bound, Jerry bears 
his prize to the hack, and, pushing the boy in, slaps the door to. 
As he does so, his eyes catch the form of a powerful man rush- 
ing at him with a revolver in hand. "Without stopping a second 
on that account, he leaps for his seat, and now his ear catches 
the sound of a blow, a groan, and a heavy fall. As he clears his 
reins, and brings his whip down on his horses with a will, his ear 
again catches the sound of another blow, another groan, and an- 
other fall; and now Jerry is dashing like mad away through the 
streets of Sacramento, in utter contempt of all ordinances against 
fast driving. 



CHAPTER X. 



PURSUIT THE VrLLATN'S FOILED NEW FKIENDS. 

As Jerry Brady urged bis Lorses through the streets of Sacra- 
mento, iu the dark night, with Minnie in his hack, he murmured 
to himself: 

" Well, sure enough, Tim had two to stretch. That is all 
right; he will be well paid, I'll be bound; and if I am fined for 
this fast driving Jim '11 square that up, too; but, sure, the ordi- 
nance was not meant for the night time, anyway." 

After he had driven at this rate for half an hour, he dropped 
into a slower pace, and then stopped altogether. He leaned 
his head back and down towards the window of the hack, and 
said: 

" You are all safe now. Miss; so I will di'ive a little slower. 
Them fellows can never tell which way I came. How do you 
feel, Miss ? Are you all right, Miss ?" 

" Oh, thankyou, I am all nicelj, considering eveiything. Was 
there an}' one hurt iu the scuffle, do you think, driver?" 

" Oh, no one, Miss, but the fellows that came after you, and 
Tim Finuigan fixed them two. Tim is a particular friend of my 
own; indeed, we are the same as cousins, because the Finnigans 
and Bradys, you see. Miss, were formerly from the same town- 
land in Ii-eland, God bless the sj)ot; and, though my name is 
Brady, my grandmother on my mother's side was a Finnigan, you 
see. Miss." 

" Do you think those unfortunate men were killed, driver?" 
said Minnie, with a visible tremor iu her voice. 

' Oh, no. Miss; the deuce a fear oi that. The likes of them 
never get killed. Miss; they are left on earth, you see, Miss, by 
a merciful Providence, just to punish us for our sins, glory be 
to God! Perhaps, if it was not for that, we could never get to 
Heaven, Miss; for we would have our own comfortable way, 3'ou 
know, Miss, in everything, and, ma}' be, get too prosperous like, 
and grow wicked as well as lich. No, no; these two fellows are 



498 KONEER TIMES IN CALIEORmA. 

alive and kicking, with, may be, just a bit of a lieadacbe from 
the way Tim put his fist on their heads; that's all, Miss." 

" Where are you to meet Mr. Becket, driver?" 

" Oh, then, I was forgetting; it's a good bit yet, Miss, so I 
must hurry up." 

Then Jerry, while handing in to Minnie a white handkerchief, 
continued: 

" Please, Miss, keep this for Mr. Becket, as I might lose it 
out here." 

!Now Jerry cracked his whip and put, his horses into a trot* 
while he murmured to himself: 

"Oh, hasn't she music in her sweet voice ! I was forgetting 
myself entirely listening to it. I could have just stayed there a 
Aveek if she had not reminded me of what I was about. I won- 
der how the mischief she came in that rig, and in Jim Becket's 
hands; for, the Lord preserve us from harm, he is no saint, no 
more than some more of us. But I know she is all right, in 
some way; for her voice has the good, true sound like about it 
that you never hear with those other kind, poor creatures! God 
help them!" 

In a few minutes moi*e, Jerry exclaimed: 

" Oh, there we have the old building sure enough, just as the 
broad daylight is upon us, and, by the same token, there are the 
windows all gone from it, and sure there is Jim himself leaning 
against the fence. How the deuce did he get ahead of me so ? 
But sure didn't I travel as good as sis miles out of my way to 
get here the shortest way I could, according to orders ?" 

Yes; it was Becket who now called Jerry: 

" Hello ! old boy; all right is it?" 

" Of course 'tis all right, sir ; I never undertake anything that 
had a bit of fight in it, but that it comes out all right, Mr. 
Becket." 

" "Well, you did your part first-rate, Jerry," said Becket, as he 
drew open the door of the hack and reached his hand to Minnie, 
while he continued : " How are you. Miss Minnie? You did 
your part first-rate, also." 

Minnie seized his hand with cordiality, and said : 

" Oh, I am nicelj', thank you ; and I am glad you think I did 
well, for I ventured to disobey instructions a little. I jumped 
away before we were half over the plank, as I knew the crowd 
would hold that man back there, better than if I waited to be on 
the wharf." 



PIONEEK TIMES IN CALIEOKNIA. 499 

" Oh, it was caj)ital; and you did your part too, just as agreed 
on, for Mack fell headlong- as he leajDed after Wild, and then 
Finnigan — " 

Here Jim burst out laughing so that he had to stop for a 
minute. 

" Oh, it -was too good to see Finnigan lay them out, one after 
another ; and see him step away as quietly as if there was nothing 
the matter with anybody. Oh, yes; and then to see Wild and 
Mack get up and wipe their faces, and ask each other who hit 
them, and Avhere the hack had gone to." 

There again Jim burst out laughing, in which Jerry, and even 
Minnie, could not help joining. 

" Oh," Jim continued, "I tell you it was better to look at than 
any pla}' Tom McGuire ever jiut on the San Francisco boards. 
Well, let us lose no more time. We can laugh better when we 
are all through in safety. After you left I saw our friend Tom, 
for a moment, and told him to stick close to Wild and Mack, for 
they do not suspect him, and to mislead them all he could. I 
then ran to Big Phil's, and got him to send me here in a buggy 
by the shortest road he could take, so I have been here these last 
ten minutes. Now, Jerry, can your team stand it to go to Frosty 
Joe's ? If they can, I can get a fresh team there to take us to 
Marysville ." 

" Oh, yes; they can staud to go as far as that." 

So, Becket jumped in, and Jerry put his horses again in mo- 
tion, at a reasonably good pace. As Jim took his seat in the 
hack, he said, half-laughing : 

" Ah, I see, Miss Minnie, you lost that becoming hat; but it 
is of no consequence, for you cannot get cold with that immense 
head of hair, and at Frosty Joe's I will get you some sort of 
woman's clothes. I have ordered your trunks forwarded to Dow- 
nieville by Adams & Co. 's Express." 

" Oh, thank you, Mr. Becket ; that was so thoughtful of you." 

" Oh, you know I am your brother, now. Miss Minnie; so don't 
mind thanking me for every little thing I do." 

Minnie's eyes suffused with tears, and it was her only answer, 
but Becket understood her. A red, lurid light now shaded all 
the horizon to the East, and brought out to view the great Sac- 
ramento plains, thi'ough which they were traveling. Minnie 
leaned out the window of the carriage, and exclaimed : 

" Oh, what immense plains ! What a strange, red light the 



600 PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA, 

rising sun throws over everything. Oh, how lonesome those 
plains look at this hour in the morning ; and, perhaps, all clay ! 
Oh, that mountain in the distance is, I supjDose, the Sierra Ne- 
vada, with its great, white snow cap. As I see it now, I can fancy 
it some frightful old giant, looking down with grim sternness 
on these great plains ; angry, perhaps, at the sight of each new 
intruder, coming to disturb its mighty stillness. Is all Califor- 
nia like this, Mr.'Becket ?" she concluded, turning to him. 

Before he could answer Minnie's question, Jerry leaned back, 
and in a hurried voice, said : 

" Mr. Becket, sir ! at the turn of the road here, I looked back, 
and if I am not mistaken, I see horsemen coming like mad, after 
us." 

" Oh," said Jim, coolly, " it may be. Miss Minnie, does Wild 
know where your brother lives ?" 

" I never told him, but I am sure Mrs. Lighthead did." And 
Minnie trembled, and looked a little pale. 

" It may be nothing. Miss Minnie ; but you must be calm ; 
for all may depend on that." Minnie was herself in a minute. 
Becket thrust his head out of the window of the carriage, and, 
looking ahead, exclaimed : 

" Yes; there is the dry arroyo; I recollect it, with the timber on 
it. Jerry, when you have just turned that timber, stop ; but 
don't turn out of your tracks the least bit." 

" Aye, aye, sir," said Jerry, as he whipped his horses to their 
fastest trot, and the moment he reached the spot indicated by 
Becket, he stopped right up. Becket jumped ont, and, putting 
his arm around Minnie's waist, lifted her over the dusty x^ai't of 
the road to the side where there was only dried-up grass ; then 
he took a dried willow branch, and with it rubbed out all traces 
of his own tracks. 

" Now, Jerry, we will hide here, and you jog on slowly until 
those fellows pass, and when they are out of sight, come back 
for us. I cannot afford to run any risks in this business, and 
they might be the men we don't want to see just now." 

" Aye, aye, sir ; well thought of, faith; though if Jim Finni- 
gan was here, I would just as leave have a little tussle as not." 

Before Jerry got half through talking, he was jogging on, 
and Becket and Minnie were hid in the timber. 

On the horsemen came, at full speed. Jerry heard them, but 
never pretended to notice them, until one of them called out : 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 501 

" Stop, or you are a dead man!" And before he could rein up 
a powerful man wheeled his horse in front of his team and 
leveled his revolver at his body, while two others, armed in the 
same way, were by the carriage. Jerry remained perfectly cool, 
as he said to himself, " Oh, these are they, as sure as guns, for 
don't I see Finnigan's mark on that fellow in front of me." Then 
aloud he said: 

" Captain, would you be good enough, sir, to turn that iron 
of yours a little aside, for it might, just by accident, hurt me, if 
it went off just as you are holding it now. " 

" Who have you got in the carriage ?" was the reply Jerry 
got. 

"The devil a one. Captain dear. You can look for yourself, 
sure ; and if it is money you are looking for, this morning, you 
came, as they say in Ireland, ' to the goat's house for wool,' 
for the deuce a cent I have got, but just this dollar and a half." 
And Jerry pulled out three half dollars, and continued: " Mike 
Kennedy, that owns this team, that keejjs the stable, you know, 
on Third street, gave me this to get my dinner with, and may 
be a drink or so along the road, so as to pass the time, a sort of 
like, you know. Captain; but if you and your hojs here are a 
sort of out, not finding any one this morning better than myself, 
Captain, why you are welcome to this." 

The Captain, as he called him, took no notice of his offer. So 
he continued: 

" Oh, I give it freely, and you can take it with a safe con- 
science. The Lord be praised, for I can borrow from Frosty 
Joe a bit ahead here. He knows me and Mike Kennedy, so 
you're welcome to it, Captain, if it's any use to you." 

While Jerry had talked on in this way, the men at the side of 
the carriage had found, sure enough, that the carriage was 
empty, as Jerry had said, and looked terribly disappointed. 
"Wild now broke out with : 

" Shut up your d— d Irish tongue, and answer all questions 
truly that I jjut to you. Did you take us for highway robbers 
that you offer us that money ?" 

"Well, Captain, to answer that question in a polite sort of 
way, I will just say that you all three look as like the gentlemen 
you mentioned as two peas do to each other." 

•' None of your confounded impertinence, I tell you, but just 
answer my questions. Did yon have any passengers when you 



502 PIONEER TIMES IX CALIFORNIA. 

left Saciiimento; and if so, where did tbev get out?" 

'' Get out, did Tou say ? How could any one get out without 
fii*st getting in, Captain ? Answer me that, if you please. I told 
you, Captain, when you first stopped me, just as if you were 
highwaymen, that the devil a one I had iu the hack. If what 
you are after is to piy into men's business out here, I'll just 
make a clean breast of it. I am on my way to the Empire 
Ranch, beyond Marysville a bit, you know, to meet a great friend 
of Mike Kennedy's; one Captain Ward, and bring him home." 

"Captain John Ward!" exclaimed Wild, in surprise, while 
Mack, who was searching the carriage, gave a start and looked up. 
Jerry's using the name of Ward was merely an accident; but he 
now saw the necessity of sticking to it with a bold front, so he 
promptly said: 

" Yes, of course. Captain John Ward; who else would it be?" 

Just then ^lack hauled out of the carriage a white handker- 
chief; and, as all eyes were turned on it, Jerry continued: 

"And by the same token, that is Captain Ward's handker- 
chief. He forgot it when I took him and his friend to the Em- 
pire Eanch, some time ago, on his way to the upper mines; and I 
put it in the hack early this morning sa as not to forget it. So 
please, sir, if it is not much use to you, just lay it back, if you 
please; for I like to be particular about little things, you know; 
that is the only way a poor fellow the likes of me can make a de- 
cent living." 

Mack kept examining the handkerchief, as if looking for a 
mark or a name, and, not finding any, he was evidently put out, 
and exclaimed: 

•'• Damn me ! but I believe this fellow here is the very man 
that i-an away with the girl last night, and that this is the hand- 
kerchief he had on his hat; for I know that the fellow who took 
her had something white on his hat, as I had my pistol aimed at 
it when that devil, whoever he was, hit me such a sledge-hammer 
blow." 

Jerry, who was now leaning back iu his seat, as if half-asleep, 
seemed to make an efiort to arouse himself to say: 

" I ran away with a girl, is it you're saying ? F;uth! I hope it 
is true for you; for there is nothing I would like so much as to 
have a girl run away with me, or I \N-ith her; not a bit of difi'er- 
ence, so that I was with the girl some way. I have asked every 
girl I saw since I have been in California to run away with me, 



ii 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 503 

but they were all bespoke before me. So, the other day, I just 
wrote a letter to my old mother in Ireland, and told her to ship 
me one round the Horn, and get the Captain just to sign a bit of 
a bill of lading like, to deliver her as good as he got her, and 
that I would meet her on board the ship with the priest and all, 
and get her made my lawful wife before I took her from the Cap- 
tain; do you understand '?" 

Whenever Jerry dashed off into one of these talks, he plainly 
saw one of the men taking a side look at him, in which there 
was a humorous, encouraging expression. 

" Oh," said he to himself, " that must be Jim's friend that he 
called Tom, when ho was talking about him to the young lady. 
Yes ; I see now, and if the worst comes to the worst, we will have 
three against two." 

As he finished about his wife prospects, Wild said, savagely: 

"I told you before to shut up your d — d Irish tongue, or I will 
silence it for you with this revolver. I tell 30U now, don't speak 
except when you're asked a question." 

" Captain, that is not the waj* to speak to an American gentle- 
man. I have got my full papers; so, just say, if you please, 
* Tour d — d Irish-American tongue,' and that will be addressing 
me like a gentleman." 

At this Tom laughed heartily, while Mack growled out : 

" Don't notice the d— d fool. For my part, I think Becket and 
the girl are near here somewhere. Let us ride back to the timber, 
and see if there are any tracks leading into it." 

All three now turned to go, and Jerry thought he saw a sign 
from Tom to follow them, so he called out : 

" Captain, may I go on; I have a long journey before me, you 
know '?" 

" Don't you stir, or I will follow you and blow the top of your 
head off !" 

" Oh, then, as I can't well spare that just yet, I will stay with 
you." And, turning his horse, he trotted after them back to the 
timber, singing as he went, " The Widow Malone," at the top of 
his voice, taking care while he Avas singing to examine his re- 
volver, saying to himself as he finished his song : 

" It would be no sin at all to bury these two curs right here." 

Wild and Mack now examined the dust on the road with great 
care; but not a track leaving the place where the hack had passed 
was to be found. On pretence of taking a look under Jerry's 



504 PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 

seat, Tom rode up to the hack, and both Jerry and he stooped 
their heads low down under the seat, as if to see if anything was 
concealed there. While in this position, Tom whispered him 
something, to which Jerry answered : 

" I was thinking if we may not just as well bury these villains 
here. Surely the only thing that would ever miss them is the 
gallows." 

Tom answered: " No, no; thatwon't do." And then, turning 
around to Wild, he said : 

" I tell you we are losing time in fooling with this deuced Irish- 
man." 

" Irish- American, if you please, sir ! I told the Captain there 
that I had my full papers as an American gentleman." 

Wild and Mack now seemed to hesitate as to what it was best 
to do ; so Tom coolly said : 

" If you wish to take a run through the timber there, I will 
stay here and hold the horses, and take care of this Irish-Amer- 
ican gentleman, and, if I hear any one fire on you, I will go to 
Sacramento and give the alarm." 

That was putting the business in a new point of view, alto- 
gether; but neither Wild ncr Mack said a word, and seemed ut- 
terly at a loss how to act. 

" Oh," continued Tom, " you jieed not be in the least afraid, 
for I am certain no one is in the timber; so go right in if you 
wish to fool 3'our time." 

"Well," said Wild, "let us ride on; we can stop at Empire Ranch 
and be sure to overhaul them there, because there they will have 
to take horses to go over the trail to Downieville. " 

Just as they were starting, Jerry called out : " Captain, you 
would'nt have a little flask along, with a little taste of something 
good in it ? I am awful dry from all the talking you forced me to 
do, when I Vv-as trj'ing to hold my tongue all the time, so I was." 

" Yes ; let the deuced Irish- American have a pull at the flask," 
said Tom. Mack reluctantly handed the flask to Tom, who 
passed it over to Jerry, who said : 

" Thank you, Mister; that is the genteel way of calling my 
name." 

Jerry drank, and, as he handed back the flask, said : " Faith, 
I tried to act decent, gentlemen, with it; but it was so a kind of 
oily, that, by the hokey, it all slipped down, Mister." 

Tom burst out laughing, but Wild looked savage ; and, grasp- 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 505 

ing the flask, flung it at Jerry's head; but, fortunately, he dodged 
it, and, before he was done laughing, his three companions were 
nearly out of sight. 

Jerry now gave a long, shrill whistle, by putting one of his 
knuckles between his lips. Becket at once made his appearance, 
and then Minnie followed. 

" Oh, they are gone/' said Jerry, bursting out into another fit 
of laughing, that shook him all O'/er. Becket and Minnie looked 
at him in half-surprise. 

" Oh," said Jerry, " saving yoxiv presence. Miss, the devil a 
drop I left them in the flask. I was going to act a kind of de- 
cent, but your friend Tom winked at me, and I knew what that 
meant, so down I let it all slip. Oh, if you could have seen 
those other two fellows when they saAv me turn up the bottom of 
the flask high in the air to let the last drop go down!" 

And again Jerry laughed and laughed, saying: 

" You bet they will not want to meet with another Irish- Amer- 
ican gentleman!" 

"Now, Jerry, if that has not made you drunk, just tell us 
what passed." 

" Drunk, Mr. Jim; not a bit of it; it made me feel good, that 
is all; for I was a kind of down-hearted before to think of those 
precious scamps putting us about so; but business is business; 
so here is what your friend Tom whispered to me when our two 
heads was down low under the seat of the hack; said he: ' Tell 
Jim not to go to Marysville until to-morrow; then he will have 
plenty of good company to go with him over the trail to Downie- 
ville; and tell him I will leave these two scamps at Marysville, 
and return to Sacramento by the boat to-night.' That is every 
word he told me to tell you." 

Becket now remained in thought for a minute, then said: 

" Yes; that is the best to do." 

He then explained to Minnie that just ahead of them there 
was a road that turned off to tlie house of a Colonel William 
Eaton, who lived about two miles from the turn; and that this 
Colonel Eaton was a fine old Kentucky gentleman, wilh whom 
he was well acquainted; that he had a most sensible lady for a 
wife, and one daughter of about Minnie's own age. Becket con- 
tinued: 

" I served a brother of his once, when he was in great need of 
a friend, and the Colonel haa often expressed to me his good 



506 PIONEER TIMES IX CALIFORXIA. 

feeling about it. I kuovr he would Iv glad to Lave me t;ike you 
theiY, and I kuo\Y be will not doubt mv honor and word in the 
matter." 

•• Oh." Siiid Minnie, " it is so t^jrribly mortifying to appear in 
any family in this way.'" 

*' I know, Miss Minnie, it is as you say; but we have to face it 
now somewheiv. and I know of no family I would rather state 
the ease to than that of Colonel Eaton." 

" "Well, you know best, of course ; and I will do just what you 
think bost." 

" I will leave you in the carriage," said Jim," until I have had 
an interview with the Colonel and his lady; and if there is the 
least hesitation, I will not ui-ge the matter on them, but come 
right away." 

So Minnie was satisfied, and Jerry put his horses on their fast- 
est trot, and they were soon at Colonel Eaton's g:\te. Beoket 
went in, and was iveeived most warmly by both the Colonel and 
his A\-ife. He sjit right down, and gave a short histoiy of ^[iu- 
nie' ^ troubles on the passage fi'om Panama, and how she was vir- 
tually ab:vndoned by her escort in S;ui Fn^ncisco. and how her 
unprotected position induced her to adopt the disguise, and 
what came of her doing so. The wife and daughter could not 
help shedding tears of sympathy, and even the old Colonel was 
much excited. So Mrs. Eaton, taking a large shawl in her hand 
for Minnie to thixiw over her, went at once with Becket to the 
carriage. Without waiting for Becket to do so, she drew the 
door open hei'self, saying: 

"' Come, my poor child; I want no introduction. Mr. Becket 
has told me all about you. Come as you would to your own dear 
mother." 

This warm address, and Mi's. Eaton's kind, motherly voice, 
and the allusion to her own mother, at once overcame Minnie. 
Every hour since she left her home had been full of anxiety and 
constant watching, and for the last fifteen hours every nerve had 
been sti-ained to its highest pitch of endurance. She was even 
now waiting anxiously, :ilmost Avith fear, to he;irthe result of her 
friend Becket 's appeal for protection for her. Then, unexpected- 
ly, the voice as of a mc^hers love, full of tender sweetness, filled 
her e;u"s, and threw the fiood-gates of her he:u-t wivie open, befoiv 
she could command them. la a moment more, her arms !liv 
aiv>uud ^^rs. Eatous neck, and she is sobbing in a fit of uncon- 
trolled weeping. 



PIONEER TIMES IN CVUTOfcsiA. 607 

" Oh, calm youi-solf, my dear child; calm yourself; come, 
come with me," s;vid Mi-s. Eaton, as she threw the shawl over 
Minnie, and with her arm ju*ound her waist moved her gently on 
towards the house. 

" Oh," said Minnie, as she found herself safe in Mi"s. Eaton's 
bedroom, with the mother and daughter standing near her, " I 
fear you think me nothing but a poor, weak child, but this is the 
first time I have acted this way since I left home. But, oh, ^[rs. 
Eaton, you looked and talked so kindly, and so like my own 
dear mother, that I could not hold out!" And Minnie soblxnl, 
and sobbed ag;\in. ■"■ And, oh, I have had such a terrible night; 
but, thank God. it is all over, now. and I am safe here with you, 
thank God ! thank God !" 

"Yes, deiu; you are perfectly safe; so try and calm yourself." 

**Yes, I know I am safe, and the recollection of last night now 
hangs about me like that of a hideous dream." 

Now Miss Fannie came forward in the sweetest way, and, 
stooping, kissed Minnie, and said : " My dresses will fit you, I 
know, for we are just about the s;ime height and size." 

*' Oh, thank you ; what a tax I will be to you, but how de- 
lighted I will be to throw off this hideous disguise." 

Then Miss Fannie said she was no tax at all, but that it gave 
her the greatest pleasure to supply her wants ; so she laid a full 
suit of her clothes in readiness for Minnie, :iud now mother and 
daughter again kissed her and left her alone, saying they would 
return when she was dressed. As soon as the door was closed, 
Minnie dropped on her knees, and with her whole hetut poured 
out her thanks to God for her deliverance from the horrors of 
that night. As she commenced to dress, she said : " Why, how 
nicely every article fits me, just as if it was made for me. Oh, 
it appears a month since I hiid off my own clothes at Mrs. Don- 
nelly's yesterday. 'W'hat a terrible mistake I made; but I did 
not do it intentionally, and God has saved me; but, whatever I 
did, as I just said to Mrs. Eaton, there appeared to be dtuiger 
in it ; that is the way I ciune into the trouble." 

Fannie's gentle voice at the door came to announce breakfast, 
and now, as the two gii-ls appciu-ed in the breakfast-room, arm 
in arm, every one present came forward to shake hands with 
Minnie and congratulate her. Oh, that was a proud morning 
for Jim Becket, and he often afterward declared that it was the 
liappiost of his life. "When honest Jerry came forward, Minnie, 
with glistening eyes, grasped his hand, saying : 



508 PIOXEEK TIMES IX C.\LIF0RX1A. 

" Jerry, ohj how caul tbauk you?" 

" Xo tbauks at all, Miss. Isn't it I that should be asking your 
pardon for the quick, unmannerly -way I thrust you into the hack 
last night, without saying, " By your leave, Miss '?' But, you 
know. Miss, Tim Finnigan might, by a chance, though, to do 
him justice, I must say he seldom does make a miss blow, and in 
that case time might be a little short, you see, Miss, to make po- 
lite speeches; so I left them off until we had a more convenient 
time, you see. Miss." 

" Oh Jeriy, you were very kind and gentle and good to me 
all the time, and I am proud this morning, Jerry, that I am half 
Irish myself." 

" And am I not proud, too ? for that is just the same I am, 
' half-and-half,' you see. Miss; for haven't I got my full papers 
making me an American citizen, as I told that Sydney thief last 
night '? But he would call me out of my name; but, oh, didn't I 
pay him back. Miss, when I got hold of the dask '?" 

And now Jerry stood laughing at the recollection. 

" How mad he looked when he saw me turning the bottom 
clear up. I had my eye on him all the time. Oh, you bet that 
fellow will never want another argument with an Irish-American 
gentleman like me. He swore so. Miss, that I was glad you 
did not hear him," 

Now all joined in meiTy laughing, and Minnie's glistening 
eyes were clear and bright again. Colonel Eaton particularly 
enjoyed Jerry's humor, and after breakfast made him rehearse 
for him, and all the farm-hands, the scene of the rescue and of 
the dask, until all were tii'ed of laughing. Every one did ample 
justice to Mrs. Eaton's excellent breakfast, which was of the 
regular farm kind, of broiled chickens and ham and eggs. 

After breakfast, Becket had a private talk with Colonel Eaton, 
in which it was agreed that Minnie should stay where she was 
until her brother himself should come for her, and that a special 
messenger should be dispatched forthwith for Walter. This 
Becket undertook to do as soon as he should get back to Sacra- 
mento. 

Now he and Jerry took their leave, feeling sure of Minnie's 
safety under Colonel Eaton's hospitable roof. Becket got the 
messenger; but it tui-ned out afterwards that he was a worthless 
scamp, and that, contrary to his agreement with Becket, he de- 
ferred going until the next morning, and that when he did reach 
Marysville, next evening, he drank and fooled another day away. 



CHAPTER XI. 



THE DEUNKEN MESSENGER — THE FORGED NOTE. 

Let US now return to "Walter, Hilton and Captain Ward, as 
they dash over the trail from Downieville towards Mai-ysville. 
At the crossing- of the Yuba Kiver, they met a long pack train 
heavily packed with goods. Walter's eye caught the sight of two 
trunks packed on one mule. In an instant he recognized them. 
They were Minnie's, and directed to the care of Hilton & Wag- 
ner. The train master conld give no information in respect to 
them. All he knew was that Adams & Co. had forwarded them. 
So, wasting no time, Walter and his companions dashed on to 
'•■ Foster's Bar." Here they stopped to change horses, and to re- 
fresh themselves. 

" Can you get us something to eat while our horses are being 
saddled, Tom ?" said Hilton to a hotel-keeper, whom he knew 
welL 

" Certainly, Mr. Hilton; there is a gentleman now at dinner, 
and I think there is enough of grub for you all. Anyway, there 
is plenty of ham on the table, and venison pie, and you know my 
old woman is some on venison pie." 

" That she is. Well, give us some water to wash, Tom, and a 
bottle or two of porter, for we have a sea Captain here who will 
di'ink one himself." 

"All right, Mr. Hilton; tell Mr. Wagner and the sea Captain 
to come right in." 

So they all washed and drank a glass of porter, and walked 
into the dining-room. Walter was in such a state of excitement 
that he went through everything as if in a dream. But the in- 
stant his eyes rested on the person already at dinner, he rushed 
forward, exclaiming: 

" Oh ! James Do Forest, it is you ! Give us your hand, old 
fellow! How glad I am to see youl Have you any news of my 
sister, Minnie T' 



510 PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 

" News ! Any news of your sister Minnie ! You astonish me. 
For God's sake, is she not with you ? Have you not seen her?" 

" Oh, no; we cannot find her, James; she is detained some- 
where." 

" Great heavens, Walter ! What can it mean?" Then, sud- 
denly stopping and placing his hand to his forehead, as if trying 
to recall something to his mind, he said: "Stop; let me see 
what was that I heard at the Empire Kanch, as I was getting 
my horse." 

Now all gathered round him anxiously to hear what it was he 
had heard. 

" Oh, yes; I recollect, but it cannot have any reference to Miss 
Minnie. The stable man was talking to two gambling looking 
fellows; and one of them asked if he had seen a young girl — a 
very handsome girl, he said — on her Avay to Downieville within 
the last two days; and the stable man replied that none such had 
passed, except they had done so in the night; and that it was not 
likely that any one could pass in the night without his knowl- 
edge. Then the gambler asked if he had observed a boy with a 
sort of brown overcoat coming therewith some persons in a car- 
riage, or in the stage, or in a buggy. ' No,' the stable man said; 
' none such had come there.' Then he demanded of the gam- 
blers what they were after, before he would answer any more 
questions. To this, one of the fellows replied: ' Oh, I am try- 
ing to find my sister, who ran away from her home yesterday.' " 

" Did you hear either of the names of those gamblers?" said 
Ward. 

" Yes; I recollect one called the other Wild, in speaking to 
him." 

" Ah," said Ward, " I thought as much." Now all turned 
to Ward, asking him if he knew anything of this man. 

" Nothing particular, though I remember to have heard of a 
man of that name, and, if he is the man I am thinking of, he is, 
sure enough, a rough-looking fellow, as our friend here says, and 
should be followed up at once, and made to explain about his 
looking for his sister; for this Wild I have reference to never 
had a sister." 

" Well," said Hilton, " this seems all unaccountable, and we 
had better dispatch our meal and be off. " 

Walter said : "Ob, excuse me; I have not introduced my 
friend, De Forest ; my mind is so preoccupied. James DeFor- 



S 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 511 

est, this is my partner, Mr. Hilton, of whom I have often writ- 
ten you ; and this is my particular friend. Captain Ward." Hil- 
ton grasx^ed De Forest's hand, and greeted him warmly, and a 
bright, genial look joassed between them, such as always passes 
on the introduction of two persons favorably known to each other 
by report. As De Forest took Ward's hand, their eyes met, 
and for an instant the look was intense on both sides, and then 
Ward's eyes sank away. De Forest turned back to Walter, and 
an indescribable, disagreeable sensation passed through him. 
The meal was dispatched almost in silence, and they were all 
soon again dashing along the road on their fresh horses, toward 
the Empire Eanch. It was late at night wlien they got there. 
They saw the stable man that De Forest had told them about, 
but he could give them no further information with regard to 
Wild and his companion ; but said he believed they were yet in 
the neighborhood somewhere, though he could not say where. 
This determined our party to lay over until daylight. Early in 
the morning, they began to make inquiries, and soon found that 
the stable man was right as to the fact of Wild and his friend be- 
ing in the neighborhood late the night before; but, on going to 
a feed yard, where they understood they put up their horses, 
they found they bad risen early and had left for Marysville, in 
company with another man. 

" Well," said Hilton, " if we ride fast we will overhaul them at 
Marysville, for they will stop there, undoubtedly, for breakfast." 

So on to Marysville they spurred their horses in silence. 
Ward muttered to himself: 

" I must not let myself drop behind, for I must be on hand to 
save Wild if I cau. The fellow may be useful to me yet, and in 
the scuffle that we are sure to have, T might get a chance to let a 
stx'ay shot slij:), so as to rid myself of this fellow De Forest. He 
looked at me that time as if he knew me. Can it be that some 
of our fellows have peached ? But no; that can't be. It was the 
first time a look ever confused me. No; I outlooked Sir John 
when he accused me of forging his name; I outlooked the Judge 
when he sentenced me; I outlooked old Captain Jackson when I 
entered his service; but that fellow's looks seemed somehow to 
say, ' I know you,' and as that would be rather inconvenient just 
now, I turned my eyes away before he could see too much, for I 
know that sometimes the wolf part of my composition showa 
itself in my eyes." 



512 MONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 

On reaching Marysville, the party found, on inquiring at the 
principal hotel, that three men had eaten breakfast there, and 
that after breakfast two of them had ridden off towards Sacra- 
mento, while one was lying asleep on a lounge in the adjoining 
room. They at once aroused the sleeper, who seemed to be a 
•worthless sort of a scamp. 

" Who are the men with whom you came from Empire Ranch 
last night, Captain ?" said De Forest, as soon as he got the fel- 
low's eyes open. 

" Well, Colonel, I'll just tell you, if you let us have a little bitters 
first. My stomach is awful out of order, you see, for I have been 
up nearly all night." 

De Forest threw a half-dollar on the bar, and told the bar- 
tender to give him whatever he wanted. The loafer deliberately 
waited for his drink, put the change of the half-dollar in his 
pocket as the bar-tender laid it down with his glass, then swal- 
lowing about half the contents, he laid the glass back on the bar, 
with his right hand yet around it, and, facing about to his im- 
patient auditors, with his back to the bar, he said : 

"Well, you wanted to know who those gentlemen were with 
whom I came from Empire Ranch last night? Well, you look as 
if one of you was the Sheriff and the rest his deputies; but, if you 
are hunting thieves, I guess you are mistaken this time, if you 
think my company last night were the chaps; for they are all 
right and none of that sort." 

" Tell us who they were; that is all we want of you." 

" Well, that is easilj' done, gentlemen; and I won't disoblige 
you, because I drank at "your expense, just now." 

" Go on, go on," said De Forest, " without any more preface." 

"Well, let me begin at the beginning, then. You will under- 
stand me better, Colonel, or Sheriff, or whatever you are." 

" Then go on your own way, and tell us, and don't keep us 
here all day." 

The fellow here swallowed the remainder of his drink and de- 
liberately handed back his glass to the bar-tender and said, 
looking at De Forest: 

" You may as well order the glass filled again, Colonel; I will 
want it when I get through my story." 

De Forest threw out another half-dollar, saying, with the 
greatest impatience : 

' ' D — u your story ! Tell us who those men were that came 
with you this morning from Empire Ranch!" 



II 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 513 

" Well, as I was just saying, I arrived in Sacramento a week 
ago, more or less, broke, gentlemen; yes, ' strapped' completely. 
So I put up at the Golden Eagle Hotel, just as though I had 
a bag of dust deposited somewhere handy by; but that Callahan 
that keeps the Eagle is a sharp one, I tell you. So, after I was 
there two or three days, he came one morning and took me aside 
in a confidential sort of a way. I knew what was coming, gen- 
tlemen, for I had often been there before. Oh, yes; save me 
from a confidential talk with a landlord or a boarding-house 
keeper, when I am out of luck and short of coin. But, as I was 
saying, Callahan took me aside and says: ' Look here, Ben;' 
for my name is Ben jam in Shingle, ' supposing you pay up your 
bill this morning; for the fact is, I want a little money to pay 
my butcher's bill with, and I am very short, you know.' So I 
said: ' Mr. Callahan, I want to be honorable with you. It is my 
way always to act honorable.' ' Of course, Ben, it is,' said Cal- 
lahan. ' Well, now, just to act honorable with you, Mr. Calla- 
han, I will mention in confidence, just between ourselves, you 
know, and you must not let it go any further, that I haven't one 
d — n dime, or the weight of a York shilling in gold dust, to my 
name.' Well, gentlemen, if you were to see the sudden change 
that came in Bill Callahan's face, you could not help laughing; 
it was so kind of sudden. He jout his hand on the back of my 
neck; yes, right here; it is a sort of stiff yet from the hold he 
took of it, and rushed me to the door, making long steps, so that 
his big boot came a sort of heavy against me every step he took. 
Well, just as we got to the door, who should I see but Jim 
Becket and an Irish fellow walking with him away from a hack, 
Jim had just got out of. Well, I knew Jim, fori had often 
seen him in 'Frisco. I knew he was a high-toned sport, and 
would help a fellow; so I called to him, and when he came I 
told him of the little misunderstanding between myself and Bill 
Callahan; and while he was listening to me, the Irish fellow says: 
' And sure, Mr. Becket, he is just the man to take the letter to 
Mr. Wagner.'" 

" And have you such a letter, man?" broke in Walter, in the 
most intense excitement. 

" No, no; hear me out," he continued, while all now stood 

round him in breathless attention. " So Jim Becket, says, 'Well, 

Ben, I will tell you what I will do; I will paj' your bill here at 

Callahan's and give you twenty dollars spending money, if you 

will take a letter for me to a place near Dowuieville, and deliver 
33 



514 PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 

it safely.' * It's a whack, Jim,' said I; and he went to write the 
letter, while I went with the Irish fellow for a horse," 

" Well, what have you done with the letter?" demanded Wal- 
ter and De Forest in one byeath. 

" Well, if you wait gentlemen, I am just coming to that. After 
I got the letter, which was directed to ' Walter Wagner, High 
Canyon, near Downieville,' it Avas so late in the day that I just 
put my horse up in another stable, and waited until morning. 
I then took an early start, and reached Marysville here that even- 
ing. Just after I had my supper, I fell in with an old comrade, 
and after that I have not much recoliectiou of what I did, until 
last night, when I found myself at Empire Ranch in a little 
game of bean poker with the very chaps that came with me here 
this morning." 

" But the letter ! Tell us where the letter is," said Walter. 

" The letter? Oh, that is all right, as you will hear. I hap- 
pened to mention to those chaps, as I was playing with them, 
that I had a letter to carry to one Walter Wagner, and, to my sur- 
prise, one of the chajDS said : ' Why, you have ? Why I am 
Walter Wagner. Hand me the letter at once.' 'All right,' said 
I ; 'that is just in my hand, for it saves me a long ride; but busi- 
ness is business,' said I; 'so please write me out a receipt, and I 
will give you the letter.' So he wrote me "this receipt, and I gave 
him the letter." 

Walter took the receipt from Ben's hand, and found it drawn 
in form, and signed " Walter Wagner," At Hilton's suggestion, 
Walter laid the receipt away in his j)ocket-book, saying, as he 
did so : 

"Did the fellow open and read the letter ?" 

" Of course he did; and then they both had a conversation to- 
gether, and I heard one of them say: ' Let us get on our horses; 
we have her now, sure, if we lose no time.' And with that they 
both rushed to the stable for their horses. And, as I was now 
ready to go back to Sacramento, I came as far as here with 
them." 

" Did Becket say nothing when he gave you the letter, Ben ?" 
asked De Forest, calmly. 

"Oh, yes; he said: 'If you should happen to lose that let- 
ter, which I hope you will not do, just tell Walter Wagner that 
his sister is all safe and well, and that he will find her at Colonel 
Eaton's, near Sacramento city.' " 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 615 

" Colonel Eaton's," exclaimed Hilton; " I know him well, and 
•where he lives. She is, of course, safe in that family, provided 
these villains don't make some treacherous attack upon the 
house, when the family are off their guard." And, turning to De 
Forest, he continued : " Did you order fresh horses ?" 

" Yes ; there they stand, and let us be off." 

The barkeei^er, who had been an attentive listener, said : 
" Those fellows have at least two hours and a half the start of 
you, and mind, boys, they are armed to the eyes, and look as if 
it would be only fun for them to use their irons." 

Now all four are dashing on as fast as they dare ride their 
horses, with such a long road before them ; and Walter and De 
Forest are far in the lead. 



CHAPTER Xn. 



WAITING ATTEMPTED ABDUCTION — THE VILLAINS FATE. 

After Becket and Jerry had left for Sacramento, the morning 
after the rescue, Mrs. Eaton persuaded Minnie to lie down and 
have a rest. She gladly yielded to the suggestion, and it was 
late in the afternoon when she awoke, feeling very much re- 
freshed. She glanced around the room, and was surprised and 
pleased to see Fannie Eaton seated near the window, reading. 

" Oh, you are there," she said ; " it does me good to see you. 
"What is the time ? I have slept too long, I fear." 

" Oh, no. Miss Minnie, you have not slept too long ; after the 
night you went through, you needed the rest, and mother was 
so glad to see you sleep so nicely, and told me to watch for your 
wakening, and get you to come down to the sitting-room and 
have a cup of tea, while you wait for supper." 

"How glad I am that I did not dream of that horrid night. 
No; it is strange, but in my dreams I was back with my own 
mother in Newark, and she looked at me so sweetly and kissed 
me several times, so that I was perfectly happy. How good your 
dear mother has been to me in receiving me so kindly. But will 
you not call me just Minnie, and not Miss Minnie; for it seems 
to me as if you were my sister or some friend I had always 
known?" 

" Oh, that is easily settled; we will have no 3Iisses between us, 
if you wish it." And Fanny leaned over Minnie and kissed her 
affectionately, then continued: " We are sisters, and I am glad of 
it; for I am, like yourself, an only daughter, and always wanted 
a sister." 

And so the contract was sealed between those two sweet girls. 
Tes; a contract that lasted through sunshine and storm, only 
drawing their hearts closer and closer together, as joy or sorrow 
came, to throw light or shade on their way. Minnie now felt 
perfectly at home, and enjoyed the company of the Eatons more 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 517 

and more each day; and it could not be otherwise, for they were 
refined and educated people, governed in all their actions by the 
highest honor, and a sense of religious responsibility. Mrs. 
Eaton continued to remind Minnie all the time of her own good, 
darling mother. She was so sensible and practical in all her 
views. The Batons appeared equally pleased with Minnie, and 
the Colonel often said: " It appears to me I have found a second 
daughter." 

The fourth day came, and Minnie's heart all that day bounded 
at the apj)roach of every footfall, for that was the day she ex- 
pected to see "Walter. She would walk up and down sometimes, 
and then stop and throw herself into a chair, and, covering her 
face with her hands, exclaim: 

" Oh, Fannie, I canncft, it appears to me, hold out, or wait to 
see Walter!" 

Then Fannie would kiss her and encourage her, and try to at- 
tract her attention in every way she could. Night and tea-time 
came, and no Walter. Minnie could not eat, and grew so un- 
easy that she had to ask Mrs. Eaton to excuse her from the table. 
Fannie arose, too, and, taking Minnie's arm, walked up and 
down the little sitting-room, exhorting and encouraging her; 
but Minnie hardly seemed to hear her. 

" What can it be ?" she said to Fanny. " What makes me act so 
like a child? Why, I am no woman at all." And she took out 
her handkerchief and wiped her forehead. " Oh, Fannie, I feel 
that horrid fear coming over me that I felt when I heard that 
wretch of a man's voice near me on the Senator's deck, the other 
night. I have the same trembling and the same cold perspira- 
tion on my forehead. Oh, put your arm around me, Fannie, and 
I will feel better." 

Poor Minnie ! Can it be that she is warned by a presentiment 
of some horrid danger close at hand '? Fannie grew very much 
alarmed, and, as she put her arm around Minnie's waist, she said: 

" Do not fear, darling Minnie; you know you are safe here. 
But let me call mother and father. Their presence will reassure 
you." 

" Oh, no; do not call them. I will be better in a moment. 
Hark! what was that?" said Minnie, starting erect to listen and 
turning deadly pale. 

In a moment more, there was a knock at the front door. Min- 
nie could not stir from where she stood. 



518 PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFOENIA. 

"You stay here," whispered Fannie, "and I will go to the 
door; and if it should be your brother, I will call you." 

Fannie dashed off, without waiting for Minnie's answer, threw 
open the door, and there stood a large man, partly concealed by 
the darkness. 

" Is Miss Wagner here ?" said the stranger. 

" Yes, sir; walk in," said Fannie. 

The stranger replied: " Yes, certainly; for here is her brother 
Walter at the garden-gate." 

Minnie was listening with intense attention, and, hearing this 
reply from the stranger, with a cry she dashed past Fannie and 
was in the arms of the man at the gate, exclaiming: 

"Oh, Walter; darling brother!" 

But now Minnie's voice suddenly choked and stopped, then 
burst out in a scream, and again it stopped as if stifled; and 
Fannie plainly discerned through the darkness a tussle and a 
struggle, and then all disappeared beyond the gate. 

Fannie screams at the top of her voice, and is heard all over 
the house, " Father! father!" and at the same time rushes to 
the gate. The two men are on horseback, and Minnie is in the 
arms of one, as they gallop off; and now Minnie must have re- 
covered her voice again, for her wild shrieks for help are heard 
through the darkness for a mile around. 

Oh, yes; it is heard and answered, too; for with the tramp of 
horses comes the loud cry of " Coming, coming!" In an instant 
more, shot after shot is heard, and then is heard Minnie's voice 
alone, calling out: 

"Oh, Walter ! Oh, James ! are you hurt?" and their answer, 
" No, no, Minnie; but don't come near us, for God's sake !" On the 
approach of the horsemen with their cry of " Coming, coming!" 
the ruffians who had possessed themselves of Minnie by their 
treacherous stratagem were about to turn and run, but Walter 
and De Forest were on them too quickly. Walter and the unin- 
cumbered man before him fired on each other, on sight. The 
horse of the ruffian reared up just in time to receive Walter's 
bullet in its head, and, floundering to the ground, it brought its 
rider beneath it. In an instant he was ^Valter's prisoner, with 
a revolver aimed at his breast. De Forest had not dared to fire, 
for Minnie's form protected the man who held her^ and who was 
endeavoring with the disengaged hand to fire on him. With 
fierce impetuosity De Forest dashed in, and with a well-directed 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 519 

blow from his heavy navy revolver felled the man to the ground, 
and, catching Minnie in his arms, he swung himself from the 
saddle. Gently laying her down, he sprang upon his fallen foe 
before he could recover from the blow, and held him down 
safely, with his foot on liis breast and his revolver at his head. 
Now came Colonel Eaton, followed by some of his farm laborers, 
with lanterns in hand. After them came Hilton and Captain 
Ward. The prisoners were properly secured with their arms 
pinioned tightly behind them, and now Minnie lies sobbing in 
Walter's arms, while he calls her pet names, caresses her, and 
bids her be calm. Then Walter whispers: 

' ' Have you spoken to James De Forest ?" 

Minnie, without answering Walter, turns quickly to look for 
De Forest, and finds him standing not far behind her. She 
springs to him and catches both his hands, exclaiming: 

"Oh, James; I knew you as you caught me in your arms be- 
fore you spoke!" Then she slips one arm around his neck, and, 
drawing him down, kisses his cheek. De Forest could not resist 
the impulse to catch her up in his arms and return her salute, 
■which he had so well earned. 

" There, James," she whispers as she put both her open hands 
on his face to gently push him back, " that will do." 

As De Forest relaxed his hold and looked up, his eyes met 
those of Ward peering down in the darkness on him, with nothing 
but the sneaking wolf shining out of them. Hilton, who had 
been active in securing the prisoners, now called out to Walter, 
saying: 

" Walter, let you and De Forest take your sister to the house, 
while Ward and I will take the prisoners to a place of safety. 
Colonel Eaton says he can provide for them." 

So Walter, giving his arm to his sister, walked with De Forest 
in the direction of the house. Ward promptly took charge of 
Wild and marched him along, while Hilton brought up the rear 
in charge of the other man, who had given his name as McPher- 
son. Colonel Eaton had found in Hilton an old friend, and re- 
mained with him listening to his account of the chance meeting 
with Becket's messenger, from whom they had discovered the 
movements of the two ruffians they had just captured. 

Ward, finding himself alone with Wild, said: " You are a nice 
fool to be caught in this way. What do you think will become 
of you now ?" 



520 PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 

" Ob, I am all right as long as you are here. "What a relief I 
felt when I heard your voice. Where had you better let us 
escape ?" 

' ' Let you escape ! That is not such an easy matter as you 
think, Peter, my boy." 

"Why, yes; you and I can walk a little faster just now. You 
can undo this cursed rope from my arms, so as to make it aj)pear 
that I slipped it myself. I can knock you down, you know, and 
make off in the darkness. What is easier ?" 

" No, no; I cannot run that risk. That fellow who is in charge 
of Mack is suspiciously watching all my movements. He is no 
fool, and would know that I must have connived at your escape. 
That would put me in a nice fix." 

" Well, what are you going to do. Captain?" 

" Well, I can't now tell. I will get you both off, if I can. 
You were fool enough to forge Wagner's name to a receipt when 
you took that letter from that fool of a messenger. That alone 
would send you to San Quentin." 

" I know I did. Therefore, I tell you that in some way, Mr. 
Captain Ward, you will have to let us loose this very night, even 
at some risk to yourself. Captain Ward Litsk." 

This was said in a defiant tone, with emphasis on the word 
Lush. 

" Oh, is that your game, young man?" said Ward, raising his 
revolver, cocking it, and placing it close to Wild's ear, as he con- 
tinued: " I would rather tell my friends here that my prisoner 
was trying to escape, and that I shot him dead. That will be 
much safer for me, you know, Mr. Peter Wild!" 

" Oh, don't murder me ! I ask your pardon. Captain. Do as 
you think best, and I will be true to the last; but save me in 
some way." 

This was said in the most abject, cringing tone. Ward lowered 
his pistol, as he said: 

" I thought you must be out of your head. The next time you 
ever threaten me by word, or even look, or disobey my orders, I 
will make carrion for the buzzards of your miserable carcass, you 
cowardly dog!" 

" Oh, forgive me. Captain. You know I always served you 
w^ell; but do not let us go to jail, or they will take us out and 
hang us, as they did two fellows at Hangtown, a few days ago, 
for insulting a married woman." 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 521 

*' Well, if a good chance offers, I will get you out before morn- 
ing; but, you can depend on it, I will save you in some way, even 
if 3'ou do go to jail in Sacramento; and when you get a chance, 
tell Mack not to fear, as I will in some way save you both." 

" Well, Captain, I will depend on yoa, and no living being 
shall hear a word from me. I will keep Mack's mouth shut, too; 
but do 3'our best to get us out before morning, for I am terribly 
afraid of going to jail," 

Just then Colonel Eaton and Hilton came up with their pris- 
oner, and all stopped in front of a large grain-bin, that stood 
apart from all other buildings. It was strongly built, and had in 
it only one small window and a little door. Into this building 
the prisoners were thrust, and two stout men, farm-hands of 
Colonel Eaton, leaped in after them, with revolvers in hand, as 
guards. They threw some empty gunny-sacks to the prisoners 
to seat themselves or lie down upon, as they felt inclined. Hang- 
ing up a lantern near the doorway, the guards seated themselves 
comfortably, and entered into conversation, as though nothing had 
happened. All being deemed secure. Colonel Eaton led the way 
to the house. As Ward followed, he muttered to himself: 

" Yes, Mr. Peter Wild, you signed your own death warrant in 
that threat you made. You did not know, perhaps, that I never 
risk a fellow after he once threatens. Yes; your fate is sealed; 
and while getting you put where your tongue can never become 
troublesome, I will gain credit with my future wife here — this 
sweet young ladj' I am just going to be introduced to." 

When Walter, Minnie and James De Forest came near the 
housGj they met Mrs. Eaton, Fannie, and every one around the 
place, ready to receive them with every demonstration of joy. 
Both the ladies hugged and kissed Minnie, and gave way without 
restraint to their feeling of thankfulness and delight at her res- 
cue. On reaching the sitting-room, Minnie introduced her 
brother and James De Forest. When Walter took Fannie*s 
hand, and retained it in his, while he was expressing his grati- 
tude to her for her sisterly care of Minnie, Fannie started, and 
withdrew her hand in great alarm, exclaiming : 

" Oh, Mr. Wagner, you are wounded !" And, as pale as death, 
she held up her hand covered with blood from his. All eyes 
turned to Walter's hand, and, sure enough, it was red with run- 
ning blood. Minnie caught it up, saying : 

" Where, where, Walter, do you think you are wounded ?" 



522 PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 

'•'Oh, do not be alarmed, dear Minnie. Don't mind. Miss 
Fannie. It cannot be much; for I never felt it." 

Without ceremony, he threw off his coat, and found his shirt- 
sleeve saturated with blood. Removing this, the wound was 
exposed. It appeared that the shot fired at him had gone 
through the fleshy part of his arm. In the excitement, he had 
never felt it ; but it was now bleeding freely. Mrs. Eaton's skill 
with adhesive plaster and bandages soon staunched the wound, 
and Walter laughed the matter off as if it was nothing. While 
Walter was having the wound dressed, somehow his eyes strayed 
over Minnie's shoulder in search of Fannie's face ; and her pale, 
tearful countenance, as her eyes met his, gave him a peculiar 
pleasure he had never in his life felt before. 

" How like Minnie she is," he thought to himself. 

At De Forest's suggestion, Walter let his wounded arm rest in 
a sling. Just as all this was arranged. Colonel Eaton appeared 
with Hilton and Captain Ward. The Colonel introduced them 
to his wife and daughter, and Minnie was most cordial to them 
both, calling them her deliverers, and saying everything to show 
her gratitude for the share they had taken in her rescue. Cap- 
tain Ward was apparently in the best good-humor. 

" I am only sorry. Miss Minnie," he said, " that it was not I 
who had the honor of taking you from that villain, Wild ; or 
that it was not I who was wounded in your defence ; but I shall 
try, by future devotion to your interest, and to that of all 3'our 
friends here, to show that I am worthy of at least being counted 
as one of your friends." 

' ' You have given ample proof of that already, Captain Ward, 
I am sure ; and I would be very ungrateful if I did not fully ap- 
preciate your services, and look forward with hope for some op- 
portunity to show you how highly I value them." 

The Captain bowed and smiled, while he let his large, dark 
eyes fall full on hers, as he said : 

" Oh, Miss Minnie ; you make me most happy by making me 
think that you believe yourself in my debt. " 

As Minnie's eyes looked into his, they did not flinch, nor draw 
back, tor something for an instant fascinated her, and then a 
loathing, repulsive sensation darted through her like an electric 
shock, and seemed to say to her j)lainly : 

" Beware ; he is a villain !" 

Ward withdrew his eyes in a sort of confusion, as though he 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 523 

felt that Minnie had clone just what Brown had warned him she 
would do — read him through and through. Before Minnie had 
time to recover her former manner, and acknowledge Ward's 
last speech, Walter said : 

"Captain, you are veiy gallant, I acknowledge, to wish to 
have this wound; as, besides the great inconvenience it is likely 
to be for a few days, it pains me very much just now, I assure 
you." 

" Oh, if there was nothing disagreeable about it, of course 
there would be no merit in taking it; and I would then make no 
progress in Miss Minnie's favor, which is what I prize above all 
things. I felt so before I saw her, because your description of 
your sister fascinated me." 

"Why, brother Walter!" said Minnie, half-annoyed, "have 
you been talking so foolishly about me to strangers?" 

"Oh, sister Minnie, I did say something about you to my 
friends, and only because I supposed they never would see you. 
They were friends, however, and not strangers; but yet I would 
not have said a word about you, had I the least idea at that time 
that you were on your way out to me." 

" I am compelled to say. Miss Minnie," said the Captain, "that 
you cannot find fault with your brother, for to-night I see he 
was so moderate as to have told only half the truth." 

To this speech Minnie only bowed in acknowledgment, making 
an effort to smile, for somehow she now found the Captain's 
gallant speeches were excessively disagreeable to her. She felt 
like one who was warned that those comjaliments not only 
meant nothing, but that they were used to cover some ulterior 
purpose. She combated this feeling, and tried to shake it oflf, 
as unreasonable and unjust to a man who was her brother's 
friend, and whose conduct towards herself was, thus far, unex- 
ceptionable; but to do this required an effort of thought and 
will that she was not always on her guard to use. So, though in 
future vei-y polite to the Captain, it was politeness squai-ed by 
the strict rules of society, with nothing of those thousand and 
one natural little off-hand actions, gestures and bright, genuine 
smiles, that throw a charm into the intercourse of friends who 
both respect and admire each other. 

While Minnie was engaged in this conversation with the Cap- 
tain, she noticed that De Forest looked annoyed and uneasy. 
"Perhaps," thought she, "James De Forest knows more of 



524 PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 

this Captain "Ward than Walter does; for I can see he dislikes 
him. I will ask him to-morrow." 

Then Mrs. Eaton came to announce that a lunch was ready 
for the four newcomers. Thanking Mrs. Eaton for her hospital- 
ity, they sat down and ate as hungry men do after a hard ride and 
a long fast. Fannie, by her mother's request, j) resided at the 
table, and Minnie sat by "Walter to cut his meat, as he feared to 
use his arm carelessly. The conversation became general, and 
all seemed almost to have forgotten the frightful events of the 
day, in the enjoyment of their present safety. After supjDer, it 
was arranged that, Walter being excused on account of his 
wound, all the other men should in turn watch with the guard 
over the prisoners until daylight. 

At the dawn of day, no unnecessary time was lost in taking 
the prisoners to Sacramento, to have them regularly examined 
before a Justice and committed formally to jail, to await their 
trial. Colonel Eaton furnished the necessary wagon to convey the 
prisoners, and the rest of the party acted as a guard on horse- 
back, Walter remaining behind, as his wound began to give 
him considerable ti'ouble. It was agreed, also, that it was un- 
necessary for Isaac Hilton to accompany them; so, bidding them 
all a cordial farewell, and, telling Minnie he wanted to go back to 
fix things up for her in High Canyon, he rode ofif in the direction 
of Marysville. The news of the attack on Colonel Eaton's 
house had reached the city of Sacramento in an hour after its 
occurrence, and excited the greatest indignation. The story ran 
in a hundred ways, mostly greatly exaggerated. One had it that 
Miss Fannie Eaton, so universally beloved, had been shot by a 
friend of her own, while he was trying to save her from some 
ruffian who was in the act of carrying her off. Another, that a 
beautiful young lady friend of Miss Fannie, who had just arrived 
from the East, on a visit to her, was carried off, and that Colonel 
Eaton had been killed while trying to rescue her. And many 
yet more extravagant versions of the matter were repeated 
from mouth to mouth. Morning came, and the news spread in 
every direction, so that by the time the prisoners arrived in the 
city, it was known in many of the nearest mining districts. Every 
one seemed interested, and all, as they heard tbe news, threw 
down their mining tools or whatever they had in hand, and 
rushed towards the city to learn the truth. Colonel Eaton had 
the wagon with the prisoners driven direct to the office of the 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 525 

District Attorney. After inquiring into the facts, this officer told 
the Colonel that it would be necessary for the ladies of the house 
and Walter all to be present at the examination, and that until 
they arrived the prisoners would be handed over to the Sheriff 
for safe keeping. De Forest now went for a carriage to go back 
for Walter and the ladies. Colonel Eaton did not forget our 
friend, Jerry Brady, who had amused him so much the day he 
brought Minnie to his house. So it was Jerry's carriage De 
Forest engaged. He found Jerry in the highest state of excite- 
ment; for he had just heard a terribly exaggerated account of 
the attack on the Colonel's house. 

" So you tell me, sir," exclaimed Jerry, " that Miss Minnie and 
the other ladies are all unharmed, and only Miss Minnie's brother 
a little wounded? Glory be to God!" 

" That is all, Jerry; you may depend on it." 

" And the ladies are going to come in and testify against those 
two ruffians ? Is that what's going to be done, sir ?" 

"Yes, Jerry; the District Attorney wants their statement under 
oath." 

"Well, sir, then all this business will end to-day, sure ?" said 
Jerry, looking solemn, and speaking in a suppressed voice. 

" What do you mean, Jerrji?" 

" Mean, sir ! I mean that if Miss Minnie Wagner ever gets up 
in a crowded courtroom, and tells all them miners that such and 
such a man attempted wickedness towards her, in a moment 
more no man in all that cro^vd will be his own master. No, sir; 
for I tell you that Miss Minnie is so handsome and innocent- 
looking, and her voice is a voice just lent to her by some angel, I 
suppose, to let us know what sort of voices there are in Heaven, 
and to make us want to get there — the Lord be praised ! It will go 
right to the heart like, of every man present, who has a mother, 
a wife or a sister, that he has been thinking and dreaming about 
ever since he left them away back in his old home; and before he 
knows what he is doing, he will be pulling the ropes that will 
swing them two villains; and the sun, as it goes down to-night, 
will shine on their dead bodies. So, as I said, sir, this day will 
close this business, I am thinking." 

" I hope you are mistaken, Jerry; for I am opposed to that 
sort of lynch-law executions, for more harm comes from them 
than good." 

" Yes, sir; so I say, too; and many a poor soul is sent in that 



526 nONTlEE TTXIES IN CALrFORXL\. 

■war to its last reckoning, all unprepared — the Lord save us! For 
■who is the man that could hope to dnd his account all right at the 
other side, if sent out of this world in that sudden sort of a way ? 
God forgive us our own sins!" 

This delay of sending for Walter and the ladies obliged the ex- 
amination to be deferred until two o'clock in the afternoon. Xow 
came one of those extraordinary excitements, often witnessed in 
the early days of California. It spread like a coutlagration, until 
more than a thousand men stood waiting for the examination, 
near Justice Howard's office, not far from the steamboat landing. 
All the police force at the command of the authorities was as- 
sembled at tliis place, and the Justice, in obedience to a general 
wish, removed his desk, seats and chairs into a large, new store- 
room, then just being finished, near his oflGice. The hour came. 
The immense room was filled to overflowing. A bustle in 
the crowd near the door was now heard, and, after a voice of 
authority demanded it, the crowd opened, and "Wild and Mc- 
Phei-son were marched up to the Justice's desk, handcufled to- 
gether, and guarded by a strong force under command of the 
Sherifi' of the county. The District Attorney now read the com- 
plaint sworn to by Colonel AVm. Eaton. A short, red-faced man, 
of the name of Strutt, announced himself as attorney for the 
prisoners, and began by making objections to the form of com- 
plaint. The Justice overruled the objections with some impa- 
tience, and ordered the examination to proceed. 

" Go on, Mr. Justice,'" said Strutt, ''and I will soon get your 
work set aside by the Court above.'' 

The District Attorney reminded Mr. Strutt that this proceed- 
ing was only an examination preliminary to committing the 
prisoners for trial, but Strutt persisted in objecting to everything, 
always turning around towju'ds the crowd and throwing up liis 
little red face as he exclaimed: 

'• All right, Mr. Justice; I will have all this work set aside by 
the Court above." 

The murmui^s and expressions that now aud then broke from 
the audience showed that they were enduring Mr. Strutt's con- 
duct with great impatience; but the more impatient the crowd 
appeared, the greater were Mr. Strutt's efibrts to thwai-t the 
proceeding, seeming to tliink that this was a fine opportunity 
to advertise his talents and ability, and that he must improve it 
to the utmost. The increasing murmuiiugs of dissatisfaction 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 527 

■were suddenly hushed, and all eyes wore turned to the doorway, 
where the crowd were opening, in obedience to a loud demand 
from the Deputy-Sheriff. Then, as the crowd parted, Walter 
advanced, with Minnie leaning on one arm, while the otlier 
rested in a sling. Then came the tall form of Colonel Eaton 
with Mrs. Eaton. Then the manly form of James Do Forest, with 
Fanny on his arm. It is impossible, my young readers, to do- 
scribe the effect of this sight on that crowd of stalwart California 
miners. It was such as could only be produced by the peculiar 
circumstances and the times in which the scene ti-anspired. To 
look at this crowd as they stood there in that house, with their 
unshaven faces, blue and red miners' shirts, Chinese red silk 
sashes ai'ound their waists, every one with his revolver and 
bowie-knife adjusted in his belt, they appeared like one vast 
band of robbers and outlaws. But was it so? No; in that 
crowd stood the representatives of a thousand worthy families 
living in a thousand different places in the old States of the 
Union, nine-tenths of them honoring and loving their old fire- 
sides and all the sweet associations of their homes with un- 
changed love, only intensified by long absence from them and 
the almost total deprivation of the charms of ladies' society*, such 
as thej' had there always enjoyed. At the sight now before them 
of a beautiful girl leaning on her wounded brother's arm, fol- 
lowed by the well-known and highly respected wife of Colonel 
Eaton and her charming daughter, the excitement became ter- 
rible; but not a movement was made nor a sound heard but the 
light tread of the advancing party. Breathing seemed suspended, 
so still was that vast assembly. "\^'hen the Justice asked Minnie 
to raise up her hand to be sworn, the oath was repeated to her 
and she bowed in assent, lowered her hand, and took her seat 
between Walter and Mrs. Eaton. The Disti'ict Attorney then 
asked her to tell the Coui't the circumstances of her capture at 
Colonel Eaton's residence, and if she recognized as here present 
the persons Avho committed the act. Then Minnie's musical, 
clear- voice, though a little tremidous, was heard distinctly by 
every individual in the whole building, relating the treacherous 
waj' in which she had been captured, and of her subsequent 
rescue by Walter and James De Forest. Not an intonation of 
her voice escaped the hungry ears of the excited assembly. 

As Minnie concluded by saying, " I recognize those two men 
seated neai- you, Judge, as the men who caught me and put me 



528 PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 

on that man's horse," pointing to Wild as she spoke — the effect 
was beyond the greatest imagination. No one yet moved, but 
strong men trembled, while tears ran down their sunburnt 
cheeks. Oh, it was that Minnie's sweet, innocent, woman's voice 
took them back in feeling and memory to boyhood and early 
•manhood, where a mother, a wife, a daughter, a sister, or it may 
be a sweetheart, rose up before them in beauty ; such as in 
dreams the imagination decks the loved ones of the past, swell- 
ing their hearts with wild devotion to the good and the pure of 
the whole sex. They realized at that moment, perhaps, how 
dark and dismal would be our journey through life, if Grod, in 
his goodness, had not sent us woman to cheer us on by strewing 
the rugged parts of our path with alluring flowers, and by light- 
ing up our way with the bright sunshine of her smiles, when 
sometimes obscured by terribly dark clouds of fortune. Under 
the influence of these overpowering feelings, the miners regarded 
the prisoners before them as monsters, whose instant destruction 
could alone atone for their daring attempt against all they held 
dear in woman. While Minnie was speaking, even Strutt forgot 
his own importance, and remained fascinated, with his eyes on 
her face. Now, recovering himself, he jumped to his feet, and 
began : 

" Mr. Justice, I totally object—" 

He proceeded no further, because an iron grasp was on his 
throat, and another low down on his back, and in an instant he 
felt himself high in the air, while the powerful fellow who held 
him aloft, called out : 

" Boys, what shall we do with the scalawag ?" 

" Hang him !" " Choke him !" " Throw him out doors !" 
shouted everybody. And then came the additional cry : " Drag 
out those Sydney ducks ! We will give them all the law they 
want ! Drag them out ! Drag them out !" then burst from the 
whole assembly, while revolvers leaped into view all around. 

Minnie, Mrs. Eaton and Fannie stood close together, with 
Colonel Eaton, De Forest and Walter standing with their backs 
to them, and their faces towards the now wild crowd. The 
Sheriff and his deputies stood with their revolvers in hand; but, 
feeling themselves utterly powerless, remained inactive, uncer- 
what to do. Justice Howard leaped on a chair, and, calling 
out in a clear, commanding voice, such as even a mob will some- 
times listen to : 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 529 

" Calif ornians, do you forget that ladies are present ? If you 
are the meu I take you for, in respect to the presence of those 
ladies, you will at once put up your weapons and remain quiet." 

" That is right ! That is right !" sang out a hundred voices 
at once. And in an instant more a general quiet reigned through- 
out the building. Poor little Strutt, finding his throat released, 
squirmed his way through the crowd to the door, and made the 
shortest time on record, in a foot-race, to the nearest saloon, 
where he poured all sorts of drinks down his throat. " Just to 
see," he said, " that, though sore on the outside, it was all right 
on the inside." He complained, too, of soreness on the back 
part of his person, where some one had given him a terrible pro- 
peller with his boot, as he was making his exit from the building. 
"It felt," he said, " as if he had been sitting on a red-hot stove." 

The Justice remained standing on the chair, with his eyes fas- 
tened on the crowd, as if with their power he charmed them into 
good order. But he himself well knew the talisman whose power 
had done the work, and he now continued : 

"Thank you, fellow-citizens, in the name of the ladies here 
present, for restoring order, and I now wish to say to you, that I 
will forthwith commit the prisoners for trial without further ex- 
amination; and, in the name of the ladies, I will ask you to retire 
from the building without any disturbance, so that they may have 
a free passage, and the Sheriff an opportunity to do his duty and 
take the prisoners to jail. Without a word of objection, all turned 
to leave the building. During all the time these scenes were en- 
acting in the building. Captain Ward remained outside, moving 
about among the mass of people who could not get in, appar- 
ently in a heated excitement of indignation at the villainy of the 
prisoners. 

" What is the use, boys," he would say, " of going through the 
forms of law with these Sydney villains ? No ; let us have a 
wagon ready to pitch the rascals into as soon as the Sheriff brings 
them out, and let us take them to the nearest tree and up with 
them. Yes; we must protect the few ladies among us at all 
hazards." 

His auditors were but too well inclined to agree with him. 
While he was talking to a crowd in this way, a boy pushed his 
way up to him, saying: 

" Is your name Captain Ward, sir ?" 

" Yes, boy; what do you want ?" 



530 PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 

The boy motioned liim to follow a little way, and then handed 
him a note, saying: 

" Mr. Strutt told me to bring him an answer, sir; and that he 
would give me an ounce for it." 

Without speaking. Ward read the note. It was written on a 
half-sheet of foolscap. The hand-writing was evidently that of 
a person who usually wrote a good hand, but who now wrote 
under great excitement, and in a tremulous, unsteady manner. 
It was as follows: 

LtrsK : — I am not to be trifled with. You have not come near me, though 
I have repeatedly sent for you. If you do not instantly come, and explain, 
to our full satisfaction, how you are going to save us from this fix, I wiii, 
just as soon as I get back to the jail, make a full confession of everything I 
know. You know I can prove to the authorities all I will tell them, and 
that this will swing you, and save my own life. So, you now see, I am not to 
he fooled with. No letters or promises sent by others will do ; so, now, you 
know what to expect, and who you are dealing with. 

Wild. 

As Ward finished reading, a bitter, sarcastic smile curled his 
lip, and he said, half-aloud: "The trouble is that you don't 
know who you are dealing with. Yes; when you get back to the 
jail. Yes; then you can do as you like; that is all." 

Then aloud, to the boy, he spoke: " Wait a moment, boy, and 
I will give you the answer; and be sure you make that fellow give 
you the ounce before you give him the note." 

" All right. Captain; I will do that." 

Ward remained in thought for a moment, and then walked 
into a grocery store near by, got a sheet of paper and wrote in 
the center of it: "I will see you as requested." And, without 
signing it, folded the paper, put it in an envelope, and gave it to 
the boy. The crowd now came rushing out of the building, and, 
parting into two bodies, one at each side of the door-waj, as if 
by preconcerted action, until at last came the Sheriff with his 
prisoners. Then arose a terrific shout, then a rush, and, in a mo- 
ment more, the prisoners were flung into the large spring-wagon 
Ward 'had just driven u^d. The crowd now fell into silence 
like that of a funeral, and, without an apparent direction from 
any one, or a visible leader, made off to a well-known tree, with 
spreading limbs, in the outskirts of the city, near the river. The 
wagon halts beneath the beautiful spreading shade of the tree, 
that is all unconscious of the bloody work it is to be used for. 
The rojDes necessary are found all prepared in the wagon, with 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 531 

small ones to pinion the arms. In a moment more, the prison- 
ers are compelled to mount the high seat of the wagon, and 
stand erect on it, and, while yet handcuffed together, as the 
Sheriff had them, their arms are fastened, and the fatal ropes 
adjusted around their necks; then drawn over a limb and fastened 
to the butt of the tree. The horses are impatiently champing 
on their bits, so that the driver has all he can do to hold them 
until he receives the signal to let them go, which will plunge the 
two miserable men into eternity. In this last moment of time, 
all hope of rescue by Ward's assistance leaves Wild, and he now 
calls out: 

" Only spare my life for five minutes, and I will give you infor- 
mation that will be most valuable to you, and the truth of which 
I can prove to your full satisfaction." 

"Hear him!" "Hear him!" cried out a hundred voices. 

As Wild spoke, he glanced all around the crowd, and his eyes 
at last rested on the tall form of Ward, standing near the horses' 
heads. 

"There," said Wild, "is the very man I want to tell you 
about. He is the Captain of all the Sydney thieves in the 
State." 

All eyes were turned in the direction Wild indicated by his 
look only, for his hands were pinioned down, and each one, in 
that part of the crowd, looked at his neighbor with suspicion. 

"What man do you mean?" called out Ward, boldly, while, 
as if jumjDing forward to hear the answer, he pressed against the 
horses' heads, and, dextrously using his knife, severed the reins. 
In an instant, the impatient animals were plunging forward, reck- 
less of everything. Ward took care to be one of those struck to 
the ground in the confusion. Then the two wretched men 
swung backwards and forwards, writhing in the last agonies of 
a fearful death, while the crowd looked on in profound silence, 
with uncovered heads, which made the scene as solemn as it 
was terrible. As Ward arose from the ground, his first expression 
was: 

"Oh, what a pity that fellow did not get a chance to finish 
what he had begun to tell us ! But, however," he continued, "it 
is of no consequence, as I suppose the rascal was only trying to 
gain time." 

Then, looking up to the two swinging, lifeless bodies, a demo- 
niac smile played around his wolfish eyes, as he said to himself: 



532 MOIIEEB TIMES IN CALIFOENIA. 

" I managed this business well. That fellow Wild was the 
only man in my whole gang I feared; but be will never again 
write me threatening letters or interfere with my plans in regard 
to this proud beauty, who is to be my future wife, which, if he had 
lived, he might have attempted. That fellow McPherson was a 
sort of useful dog to have about, but I could not save him, and 
get Wild hung; so I had to let them both swing." 

When the crowd rushed from the building after the examina- 
tion, Minnie and Walter and their friends followed slowly, and, 
on reaching the sidewalk, they found the street completely de- 
serted. 

"Why! Where is the immense crowd gone ?" exclaimed the 
ladies, in surprise. 

No one could tell, and, without pressing the inquiry, the whole 
party proceeded to the hotel and ordered refreshments. A little 
before sunset, Jerry Brady called to ask if his carriage was 
wanted to take the ladies back to Colonel Eaton's. Yes; it was 
wanted, of course. 

"Well, Mr. De Forest," said Jerry, " it came out just as I told 
you it would; that sun we see just setting, is shining on the dead 
bodies of those two Sydney villains, hanging on the big tree, 
down close to the river, all alone, without a friend to bury them." 

The sudden disappearance of the crowd was now explained, 
and when the ladies were informed of what had happened a sen- 
sation of sickening horror completely overcame them. Califor- 
nia, however, was not then the place to brood over the events 
past, and that could not be recalled. No ; the present and the 
future were always demanding our time and energy; for on, on, 
we were rushing, always pressing a month's work into a day's 
time. Colonel and Mrs. Eaton insisted on Minnie, Walter and 
De Forest returning with them that evening, and they yielded, 
as they found it hard to part with friends who had, even on so 
short an acquaintance, become so very dear to them. Then Wal- 
ter was feverish, and half-sick from his wound, and Mrs. Eaton 
urged the necessity of absolute repose and quiet, such as he could 
only have at her house. So Jerry Brady once more dashed over 
the road, and, early in the evening of that anxious day, deposited 
them all in safety at Colonel Eaton's hospitable residence. 



CHAPTER Xm 



A VISIT FROM CAPTAIN WAED — SOMBER THOUGHTS. 

The morning after the execution of Wild and McPherson, 
Walter found himself so much worse, that it was deemed ad- 
visable to send for medical advice. Dr. White, who came from 
Sacramento in answer to the call, examined the wound and found 
it very much inflamed, and the symptoms pointed to the possible 
danger from erysipelas. The Doctor privately informed Colonel 
Eaton and James De Forest of his apprehensions, and of the 
necessity of using the most active remedies to ward off the 
disease. He also counseled the most careful nursing. This 
state of things induced De Forest to defer his departure for a day 
or two longer; for, although Walter had of course the best possi- 
ble nurses in Minnie and Mrs. Eaton, yet his anxiety for his 
friend's safety would not permit his leaving until he should feel 
assured of his safety. In the course of the morning of that same 
day. Captain W^ard called to pay his respects to the ladies, and 
inquire for his friend Walter. The ladies were all very polite to 
him, and Minnie, after informing him of the Doctor's general in- 
junction against visitors being permitted to see Walter, said: 

" But my brother thinks so much of you. Captain, that I think 
it would dq him more good than harm if he were to see you for a 
few minutes." 

Ward looked delighted at this speech from Minnie, as he said: 

" Oh, well ; the dear fellow and I have become very much at- 
tached to each other ; but I feared that my nose was out of 
joint now that his sweet sister was here to stay by him ; for the 
fact is, I believe, I made my way to his friendship and heart by 
talking so much of you. Miss Minnie, which I could not help do- 
ing after I saw your likeness and heard his description of you, 
which I find, after all, only told a little of the truth." 

To stop these sort of broad compliments, which no woman of 
sense x-elishes, for she knows that they generally come from hol- 
low heads and hollow hearts, Minnie arose and said ; 



53i PIONEER TIMES IX CALIFORNIA. 

" I will lead the way to my brother's room, Captain, if you 
wish." 

James De Forest, who was seated by Walter's bed, recognized 
Ward's voice, as he followed Minnie up the stairway, and, not 
wishing to have any conversation with him, arose to go, intend- 
ing only to bow to the Captain as he passed him ; but Ward 
stopped short, directly in front of him, and reached out his hand, 
exclaiming : 

" My dear fellow, how are you after the excitement of yester- 
day? I am glad to see you looking so well. AVell. we fixed 
those Sydney rascals nicely. I was out there and saw their last 
kick. The villains died hard, I can tell you ; but die they had 
to. Now Miss Minnie here has her revenge. I kept up the steam 
among the boys while the examination was going on, so the whole 
thing went off like a charm." And Ward, as he stopped speak- 
ing, chuckled out what he intended for a laugh. 

De Forest withdrew his hand with a feeling of indescribable 
loathing, while he dropped his eyes on Ward's face, then down 
his whole person to his feet, and withdrew them, and, without 
speaking a word, passed quickly down the stairs. Ward was, of 
course, disconcerted; for there is no man on earth, be he ever so 
bold in impudence, so callous to contemptuous treatment, who 
can stand that sort of a review of his person unflinchingly. Ee- 
covering himself, however, he said to Minnie : 

" What is the matter with our friend, De Forest? He has a 
strange way of acting." Then, assuming a pleasant voice, and 
dropping his head very close to Minnie's face, he continued : 
" Oh, Miss Minnie, I see the poor fellow is jealous, so I forgive 
him. Yes ; he cannot help it ; so, as I said, I forgive him ; for 
' I know how I should feel if any good-looking man should suc- 
cessfully get himself between me and your smiles. Miss Minnie." 

Minnie felt her face burn, while every word the Captain said 
added to her disgust of the man. Ward continued, with a sort 
of knowing smile: 

" Oh, how I should like to have been in De Forest's place the 
night before last, to get that reward I saw yon give him for 
saving jon. Oh, Miss Minnie," and here he lowered his voice and 
tried to give it a love- sick tone, " can I ever hope to deserve such 
a reward ? It was to win my way with you I worked so hard 
yesterday in getting those men properly disposed of." 

Minnie's horror was now equal to her disgust, and she would 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 535 

have answered Ward in a way that would have satisfied him that 
he had made a great blunder in this first attemj)t to win favor 
with her; but they were now by Walter's bed, and she only said, 
as she turned to leave the room: 

" I am surprised, Captain Ward, how you could for a moment 
suppose that I, or my brother, ap^Droved that horrid proceeding 
of yesterday." 

Ward bit his lips, as his eyes followed Minnie's retiring figure 
down the stairway, and then, turning to Walter, he began to 
express himself as greatty concerned for him. 

" Oh; do not be alarmed, dear friend; the Doctor says that all 
I want is quiet and good nursing, both of which I am sure of 
here." 

Then Ward asked Walter if he would not wish him to stay and 
help to nurse him. 

" Nothing would suit me better, Captain; but I have all the 
nurses that I want, and I dare not trespass on the hospitality of 
this good family by encouraging any more persons remaining 
near me, and particularly when they can do no good." 

" When does De Forest return to Oregon ?" asked Ward, in a 
careless tone. 

" To-morrow, or the day after at farthest. My sister will be 
all the nurse I shall want." 

" And Miss Fannie ?" added AVard, with a knowing smile. 

" Oh, yes, Captain; and Miss Fannie, as you say; for it will 
surely do me no harm to know that so sweet a girl is helping 
Minnie." 

" Not a bit of it! And I don't blame you, my dear fellow, for 
being a little soft in that direction. I might have been so my- 
self if all my attention was not absorbed in another direction." 

" Oh, indeed," said Walter, not appearing to understand to 
whom the Captain alluded; " I did not suppose a man like you, 
who had seen all the beautiful women of the world, you may say, 
would be easily thrown off his guard, or yield to that sort of 
feelings." 

Ward now assumed a more serious manner and tone, as he 
said: 

" Nor am I easily moved, friend Wagner, I can assure you. I 
have, as you say, seen many charming women, and, though warm 
and ardent in my temperament, I assure you, as we are both 
here alone, and feeling sure you will not doubt your friend's 



536 PIONEER TIMES IN CAXIFOENIA. 

word, that my heart was never touched until within the last few 
days." 

This was too plain a speech for "Walter to be able to pretend to 
wholly misunderstand ; so he just said : 

" I see, Captain, you are new in these matters, sure enough; 
or you would know that these sudden fancies are never lasting." 
"Ward was going to reply, when Walter added : "But let us 
change the subject, Captain. When do you go down to the 
bay?" 

" Oh, I will go in this evening's boat, as I cannot be of any 
use to you here." And, as he drew out his watch, he added : " By 
Jove! I have not a moment to lose." And, rising, he took Wal- 
ter's hand and shook it furiously, saying : " Good bye, my dear 
friend. Write to me just as soon and as often as you can. Direct 
your letters to the care of McConroy & Co., in San Francisco. 
They did all my shipping business, and are first-rate men. Be 
sure to let me know as soon as you get back to Downieville, as I 
have a business proposition to make to you. So, again, good- 
by, my dear fellow." Then, pausing a second, and lowering his 
voice, he added : " You will one day find, friend Walter, that 
you did me injustice in supposing that the feeling I alluded to, 
just a minute ago, can ever change.. No ; my life has now a new 
object, and an object that will spur me on to any sacrifice to at- 
tain it. Be my friend, Walter, in this matter, and you will never 
regret it; depend on that." 

Ward was gone before Walter could say a word in the way of 
an answer. On descending to the sitting-room, he found Mrs. 
Eaton and Fannie there alone, and, in answer to his inquiries, 
Mrs. Eaton told him that Minnie and De Forest had gone out to 
walk with Colonel Eaton. She asked the Captain to take a seat 
and wait for their return, but he said it was impossible for him 
to do so, as he had to go to San Francisco that evening, and he 
feared missing the boat. In a minute more he was urging his 
horse towards Sacramento. As he rode, he talked to himself 
thus : 

" The confounded little hussy does not yield a bit. When she 
is standing near that fellow De Forest, she looks as soft and gen- 
tle as a child of five years, and when he speaks she looks at 
him with a smile that must bewitch the fellow, and it makes me 
hate him. Yes; you can see that she believes all he tells her to 
be true; but when she is near me, there is something about her 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 537 

whole bearing and manner that says to me, so that I can't mis- 
understand it: *I understand you, sir. I have read all about 
you in your own eyes, and your compliments are disgusting to me. 
Take them to the silly women you are accustomed to, who are 
such fools as to be pleased with them.' Yes; Brown must be right. 
This Yankee girl has read me right through; but I will not give her 
up, for there was more truth than I believe I spoke in twenty years 
in what I told "Wagner to-day, as to this girl being the only woman 
who ever touched my feelings. I see I will have a difficult task 
to trap her. Yes; Brown was right. My villainous father's game 
was nothing to this that I will have to play. But I will triumph, 
for I will stop at nothing to effect my purpose. Surely the wolf 
and the lion together ought to be a match for anything that could 
come from this cool, calculating Yankee stock. The emblem of 
the Yankee is the great eagle, that soars so high above all earthlj* 
things, that when he gazes at it, away above the dark clouds, he 
forgets or half despises the natural business of life, which is for 
every man to outwit his neighbor to the utmost of his ability, and 
he foolishly begins to think of all that is noble, generous and 
great. And those sort of ideas tend to produce such girls as this 
Minnie Wagner, to the annoyance of all dashing, liberal-minded 
fellows like myself. No; give me the lion, with the wolf mixed 
in, as an emblem to inspire my actions. They live in dark caves 
and treacherous jungles, where villainy always has a home; and 
they, like me, devour the good and the bad, without mercy, 
for their own gratification. ' Might,' not 'Bight,' is the motto of 
monarchs; and I am a monarch in my way, for I acknowledge no 
superior power. What chance is there, then, Miss Minnie Wag- 
ner, for you to balk my appetite ? I have sworn to marry women 
that I fancied, and hunted them down to their ruin; but when I 
swore that, I knew I was lying; but this girl has, in fact, got 
some unaccountable hold on me. I love and hate her both. The 
idea that I should love anything, living or dead, is an absurdity; 
but I suppose the wolf part of me hates her, and the lion part of 
me loves her. Yes; it is strange. She comes to me in my dreams, 
looking so proud and beautiful; and then it appears to me I am a 
man like other men, and I love her truly and wildly, and I go on 
my knees to swear that I will be faithful to her; and when I look 
up, she is gone, and in her place stands a hideous demon, laugh- 
ing at me. Or sometimes it is Harry West, the boy I murdered that 
Sunday morning in the canal, when I -was only a boy myself. 



538 PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 

And when he appears to me now, he always comes with the same 
look out of his eyes he had that morning, when I sat on the bank 
of the canal, pushing hira back into the water every time he tried 
to scramble out, while crying for mercy until he could cry no more^ 
and was dead. And then I laugh out loud in my sleep, as I did 
that morning when I flung him back for the last time, and that 
wakes me up. I wonder why such dreams come to me now, for 
I surely have a long career before me yet. Sailors say such 
dreams always come just before death to sea-faring men, but I 
am no superstitious fool to believe in such stuff as that. When I 
get to the bay, I will begin to put my plans in motion. There is 
no time to lose, for my boys are getting more and more unpopu- 
lar in San Francisco every day. De Forest goes to Oregon the 
day after to-morrow. Well, I will have to take his case into con- 
sideration, for the sooner she hears he is dead, the sooner she 
will be over it, for she loves the fellow as she loves her life. I 
can see that, though she does not x^erhaps know it herself, and 
fancies she loves no one but her mother and brother. I would 
just like to see her when she hears of it; that would pay me for 
having had to look on when De Forest kissed her the other night. 
Then the lion part of me will feel sorry for her, and I will com- 
fort her, and then I will ]3ress my suit, and I will take care that it 
will be of great advantage to Walter that she should marry me, 
and then her devotion to him will accomplish the rest. Then, as 
I before planned, her poor, dear brother will suddenly die, and 
the sails of the Blue Bell will be unfurled, and the proud Yan- 
kee bird, as I told Brown, will flutter its clipped wings around 
my feet on the quarter-deck, and John Ward will once more be 
Captain John Cameron Ward Lusk, on the great, wide ocean in- 
tended for men like me. Oh, yes; all this will I do. On ! on ! 
you miserable horse; I am in a hurry! Why have you not wings 
for such an occasion as this 2" 



CHAPTER XIV. 

JAMES DE FOREST AND MINKIE — THE COLONEL's CATTLE. 

When James De Forest left Walter's sick-room to let Ward 
take his place, he repaired to the sitting-room, and there com- 
menced walking up and down with an impatient, quick tread, as 
he said to himself : 

' ' I cannot for the life of me see how it is that Walter has taken 
such a fancy to that man. I dislike to tell him what I think of 
him, lest he should misunderstand my motives, and think I was 
jealous on account of Minnie. Jealous, indeed ! If Minnie is 
the sort of girl that could ever be caught by that heartless fellow, 
then she is not the girl I take her for. I believe I will put Min- 
nie herself on her guard, and get her to talk to Walter. But, 
no; that will not do, either. How do I know but that she might 
misunderstand me ? No ; I will just let the thing work out its 
own cure ; for I am satisfied that Minnie's own intelligence will 
guard her. As for me, there is one thing certain: If I do not 
marry Minnie, I never will marry any woman on earth. Yes ; 
that is a fixed fact. I wonder if she thinks anything about me 
more than as a sort of a brother ? I know she likes me as Wal- 
ter's friend, but that is not what I want. I want her to think of 
me as I do of her. I have a mind to come right out to her about 
it ; but if I do, it will look as if I feared this fellow Ward; and 
then Walter is sick, and she is not fairly settled at home yet, and 
it would look as if I came down just to take her away from Wal- 
ter. No ; I will wait for a little time, until they are nicely set- 
tled down at home. Then I will come back, and have a plain talk 
with her and Walter both, which will decide if I am ever to be 
married or not." Then De Forest dropped into a deep reverie, 
and after a while he murmured : "I wonder if she has that rose- 
bud yet. I dislike to ask her, but I would like to know so 
much." Then he paused, and then added : " Yes ; every day of 



540 PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 

her life she grows more charming." Then another long pause 
comes, and then his thoughts appear in low, murmured words : 
" Oh, 3'es ; Fannie would do nicely for Walter ; she is so sweet, 
and so like Minnie." Then he walks very slowly, with his hands 
clasjoed behind his back, his head dropped forward, and a vision 
of a supremely happy day in the future is plainly before him. 
Minnie stands by his side, leaning on his arm. She is looking 
up with her sweetest smile, while she shows him the rose-bud. 
Then the scene runs on somewhat in conf usio n ; but in it is a 
church, an altar, white dresses, and orange-blossoms, a double 
marriage, a feast. Alibis senses are fascinated, and he does not 
see that Colonel Eaton and Minnie are standing in the doorway, 
looking and smiling at his deep, brown study. Minnie at length 
exclaims : 

" James, what in the world are you dreaming of? Just do tell 
us." 

De Forest starts, looks up, and joins in a laugh with Minnie 
and Colonel Eaton. 

" Oh, I will not tell you what I was thinking of; but I will 
just say that I take it as a good omen that it was you I first saw 
when I awoke from a pleasant day-dream." 

The Colonel then explained that he had come for him to join 
them in a walk to look at some young cattle he had just imported 
from Kentucky. So, off they started, Minnie taking De Forest's 
arm without waiting to be asked. 

Colonel Eaton, who remembered his own young days, very 
considerately, on some pretence, walked ahead, as he said to 
himself: " I see that poor fellow is badly in for it, and, to say 
the truth, I don't much blame him in this case. So, let him 
have a chance to tell her what he was thinking of in that brown 
study we aroused him from. I know without his telling me. " 

" Well, you won't tell me what you were thinking of that 
time ?" said Minnie, laughing; " but I suppose you were dreaming 
that Oregon was a great State, just admitted into the Union, and 
that you were elected her first Governor, and that all the people 
had assembled to see you inaugurated." 

" No, no, Minnie; you do not guess one bit right," said James, 
catching up Minnie's laughing way; " for in my dream ijoii were 
the Governor and the one ail eyes were turned on." 

"Ah, how was that? Who else was there?" 

James dropped his voice lower, and said: "I was there, and 
Walter and Fannie Eaton were there." 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 541 

He felt Minnie's hand start as it rested on liis arm. For a 
moment her eyes dropped, and she evidently had to make an 
effort to continue her sportive v^ay of talking. 

" Oh," she said, " that must have been a tame sort of day- 
dream. Why, if I was a man and wanted to indulge in a day- 
dream, I would fancy myself walking into the White House at 
Washington, with all the representatives of all the nations of the 
earth to see me take my seat as President of this great repub- 
lic. Or I would see myself a General at the head of a victori- 
ous army, with all the people crowding around to do me honor." 

And then, without giving James time to say a word as a re- 
joinder, she withdrew her arm, and, running to where a bunch 
of beautiful California violets were blooming, she picked a hand- 
ful. Keturning to De Forest, she selected one out of the bunch, 
and handed it to him, saying: " Take that; you know you once 
gave me a rose-bud; so you are repaid, and we are even now." 

De Forest took it, and, not knowing exactly how to interpret 
the gift in the way it was given, said: " Well, I will take it, and 
if I lose, it I suppose the fate of the flowers will be exactly 
the same — " 

" Oh, then j^ou suspect that I lost your gift, I see. Cam you 
think that I would treat a friend of Walter's that way ?" 

" A friend of Walter's, " said De Forest, slowly. " SupjDosing 
Captain Ward, who is a friend of Walter's, you know, was to 
present you with a flower, would you take care of it?" 

Minnie started at the sound of Ward's name, changed color 
slightly, and said: " Captain Ward will never give me a flower, 
or any other gift. There is no danger of that." 

" Oh, but if he did, Minnie; for he looks to me as if he could 
command impudence for anything." De Forest spoke with a 
"warmth that betrayed his dislike to Ward. 

A shade of half-regret and joerplexity passed over Minnie's 
face, as she said: " Oh, well, let us not talk of him; for, as you 
say, he is Walter's friend, and I do not know him much, and, 
most likely, never will." 

James made no reply, but turned his eyes away from Minnie, 
as if struggling with some inward feeling. He let them rest for 
a moment on the violet in his hand. Then he drew out his 
pocket-book and placed it carefully between its leaves, saying, in 
a half-reproachful tone: "Well, Minnie, if that rose-bud had 
half the value for you that this violet now has for me, there is 
no danger that it would be lost." 



542 PIONEER rniES ix californu. 

Colonel Eaton was now approaching, and Minnie, without 
speaking, hurriedly drew from her neck a gold locket, and, with 
the sweetest smile and a conscious blush, held it up to De 
Forest's eyes. It contained a miniature of Walter, and across 
the miniature lay the pressed rose-bud. Delighted, De Forest 
exclaimed: 

" Oh, thank you, Minnie; thank you, from my inmost heart." 

" Come, Miss IMinnie; you are forgetting my cattle," said 
Colonel Eaton. 

" Oh, no. Colonel; I assure you I could not do that; for 
handsome cattle always interest me very much." 

As Minnie said this, she took the Colonel's arm. She seemed 
now in the most joyous spirits. Laughing and talking, she de- 
lighted the Colonel by asking him all sorts of questions about 
the cattle, and appeared deeply interested in everything relating 
to them. De Forest walked on with them, but seemed lost in 
his own thoughts, while his eyes were constantly on Minnie, and, 
undoubtedly, his day-dreams of orange-blossoms and white 
dresses had again taken jDOSsession of his mind, if one could 
judge from the happy expression of his countenance. Minnie's 
eyes would now and then meet his, notwithstanding that she 
seemed to be entirely engrossed in admiration of Colonel Eaton's 
Kentucky heifers. When they reached home, they found Mrs. 
Eaton and Fannie in the little sitting-room, who inquired how 
they had enjoyed themselves. 

" Oh," said Minnie, " we had a delightful walk." 

" Oh, yes," said Colonel Eaton; " of course Mr. De Forest had 
a most charming time; for I behaved myself well and kept out of 
the way, you know, for a long time." 

Here Minnie blushed, and exclaimed: 

" Oh, Colonel, you are too bad. The walk would have been 
nothing if you had not been there to tell us all about those 
handsome Kentucky cattle of yours; would it, James ?" she con- 
tinued, turning to De Forest. 

•' Cattle, Minnie ?" said James. " Why, did the Colonel show 
us cattle?" 

Now all laughed, including De Forest, and Minnie dashed up- 
stairs to see Walter. 

The next day Walter was much improved; but it was some 
days before he could leave his room, and he did not find it hard 
to prevail on De Forest to defer his departure until then. These 



PIONEEK TIMES IN CALITOEXIA. 543 

were days of unalloyed happiness to De Forest; for, al though 
Minnie invariably avoided all private tete-a-tetes with him, yet 
her manner towards him was invariably kind, and when in his 
comiDany she seemed always joyous and happy. 

The first day Walter found himself able to leave his room, 
James De Forest bid them all farewell, promising to visit them 
again as soon as his business would permit. He parted with 
the Batons as if they had been old friends. To Fannie he whis- 
pered : 

" In your hands I leave my friend Walter; take care of him. 
Miss Fannie." 

Fannie blushed, and was going to reply; but De Forest was 
gone. 

Walter and Minnie remained four days more with their kind 
friends, and then they also took their leave. After a very pleas- 
ant trip to Minnie, they arrived safe in Walter's place of business 
in High Canyon. Mr. Hilton had a nice room prepared for 
Minnie, and had also procured the services of a widow who had, 
a few months before, lost her husband by a painful accident, 
while mining in that neighborhood. This lady was a Mrs. 
Swan, who proved to be a well-educated and sensible person, 
and an efficient assistant to Minnie, as well as a pleasant com- 
panion. So, dismissing the Chinaman, Minnie took full charge 
of the housekeeping, and was delighted with her new position. 

Soon everything around the little cottage began to wear a new 
appearance, delightful to both Walter and Mr. Hilton. Fannie 
Eaton sent Minnie plants and cuttings from her own garden 
and from Smith's extensive gardens near the city of Sacramento. 
In two or three months, flowers bloomed for her, and the wild 
rose-bushes and other beautiful climbers she had planted around 
the cottage began to cover it over and make it look most charming. 
Minnie's wildest dreams of the pleasures of a mountain miner's 
life with Walter seemed noAV fulfilled. She reigned queen in 
that whole mining district. A smile won from her was more 
valued by many a j'oung miner than a lucky day's work in the 
richest claim. While she was jileasant, cheerful and affixble to 
all, without the least formality or affectation, she ever preserved 
that quiet dignity of manner that gives such a peculiar charm 
to the educated American girl. Her keen discernment recog- 
nized merit and worth in the persons introduced to her, as 
quickly in the rough garb of the practical miner as when pre- 



544 PIONEER TIMES IN CVLIFOKiOA. 

sented in a suit of the finest broadcloth. It is not surprising, 
then, that Minnie's popularity and power knew no limits in 
High Canyon and its neighborhood. At that time, in California, 
every revolver in the whole country was held by its owner at the 
command of the good and the virtuous pioneer women; for they • 
were, in fact, half-worshiped, while those of the unfortunate 
class, as a rule, fell lower and became more degraded in Cali- 
fornia than perhaps in any other place in the world. 

Minnie wrote long letters to her mother, giving her a descrip- 
tion of her mountain life, which showed her to be fully happy. 
Oh! it cannot be that her young, light heart, while now so joy- 
ous and full of wild haj)piness, is never warned nor visited by a 
presentiment of coming evil; oris there something that whispers 
to her when the skj- of the future looks the clearest and the sun 
of to-day the brightest: " Minnie, be careful, prepare; for a storm 
is gathering for you to meet that will test your womanhood 
to its very center ?" Oh, yes; when we see her suddenly stop the 
gay song that ever cheers her in her daily duties, and look 
thoughtful and anxious, surely it must be that she has heard the 
warning whisper; because now her eyes are turned to the heavens 
above her, and that prayer of prayers taught by God Himself 
comes in low, sweet accents from her lips. Then courage seems 
to throw light at her feet, and with confidence she treads her 
way, while her joyous song is again resumed, and echoes and 
re-echoes from rock to rock, each vibration and new echo, like a 
joy of the past, growing sweeter and sweeter as it dies away in 
the distance. 



CHAPTER XV. 



PEEPAEING FOR SEA — CAPTAIN WAED AND BROWN. 

When Captain Ward reached San Francisco, he found his gang 
a good deal demoralized by his absence. Many of them refused 
to attend the meetings of the gang, and carried on their depre- 
dations on the community on their individual responsibility and 
profit. Many had gone to the mines, where good opportunities 
always ofifered for stealing gold-dust. Scarcely a day passed that 
did not bring us accounts from some mining district of the sum- 
mary execution of a thief, or of a murderer and a thief both. 
This prompt action soon began to turn back the thieves to San 
Francisco. "Ward saw his position, and understood that his time 
was short to complete his preparations and carry out his plans. 
So, after a consultation with Brown and Jack Lawson, he com- 
menced to select his crew for the Blue Bell, provision her for a 
long voyage, and put her in fighting trim in every respect. All 
this he did in a quiet way, using his own men, of course, to take 
the supplies to the bark, and no one seemed to observe him, or 
care to inquire into his business. Every one in those days was 
so intent on his own business or speculations that he paid but 
little attention to what his neighbor was doing. Brown alone 
understood the part of his plan that related to Minnie, and, dis- 
liking it very much, he made one more e£fort to dissuade Ward 
from it; but he found him more determined than ever. 

" I tell you. Brown," he said, " there is no use in your men- 
tioning the matter to me. I loved that girl before I saw her. 
Now that I have seen her, I love her ten times more. Yes ; I 
love her with fiercest passion, and yet I hate her with the most 
deadly hate. I cannot account for this myself, yet it is true. My 
fate is linked with her in some way, and when I am near her I 
see that she knows it ; for she shudders when I speak to her, and 
she never returns me a smile. No ; her eyes look almost defiant 
•when I strive to draw one from her. Oh, yes ; I both love and 
35 



546 PIONEEK TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 

hate her ; and she shall be my wife and slave, or I will perish in 
the attempt !" 

" Well, have your own way, then; but I have apprehensions in 
regard to the Lawsons. I see old Jack is delighted with your 
attention to Lizzie, and thinks you will surely marry her. "When 
we were taking goods on board the bark the other day, I was sur- 
prised to see on board the lighter, one of those beautifid ladies' 
Chinese work-tables. I asked him what in the world he bought 
it for. ' That,' said he, with a grim smile, ' is for the Captain's 
wife. I will present it to her as the Blue Bell passes out to 
sea.' " 

As Brown told this circumstance. Ward's face grew dark and 
serious. Then he said in a bitter, contemptuous tone : 

"The old rascal fairly loves me, and, if he behaves himself, I 
will do well for this girl of his; but he must not put on any airs 
with me, or he will find his mistake; that is all." 

" Well," said Brown, "how about De Forest? He may be in 
your way far worse than Jack Lawson; for, if he undertakes to 
hunt up your history, San Francisco might become a little too 
warm a place for any of us gentlemen to reside in." 

" Yes," said Ward, with a laugh; " other places might be more 
healthy for us; so I intend to save my friend .De Forest all the 
trouble of making such useless inquiries as to m}^ past histor}-. " 

"Well, I thought you were to have attended to that matter 
long ago, Captain ?" 

" Yes; the day I left Colonel Eaton's my intention was that he 
should never go back to Oregon; but, you see, he hung around 
Colonel Eaton's four days longer than he said he would, and in 
that Avay slipped through the city when ' Seagull Tim,' who had 
taken the job, was not expecting him. When I found this had 
happened, I thought at first I would send Tim after him to 
Oregon; but, on reflection, I thought there would be too much 
risk in that way of doing up the business, so I determined to 
wait until he came to California again, which he surely will do, 
from what Walter Wagner writes me. Then the job can be done 
under my own supervision, and there will be no risk or slip-up 
about it." 

" I think you are right. Captain," said Brown; " for the least 
mistake might be fatal to us all." 

" That is my view exactly, Brown; and, although I would like 
my little sweetheart to be thinking as soon as possible of the 



PIONEER TIMES IN CAIIFOKXU. 547 

fellow, wlienever she does think of him, as in his last box, yet 
prudence forbids me to be in too great haste." 

" What did Wagner say in his letter, Captain ?" 

*' Oh, he is coming to it all right," 

And, as Ward spoke, he took out of his pocket-book a letter, 
saying: "Here; I will read 3'ou the last part of it. He ad- 
dresses me. ' My very dear friend Ward,' and runs on to say: 

I delayed answering your last letter until I had fully made up my mind 
in regard to your very liberal proposition. I can now say that, on mature 
deliberation, I have come to the conclusion to accept your offer, if we agree 
on minor details of the arrangement, of which I have but little doubt. I find 
it will be impossible for me to sever my connection with Mr. Hilton before 
the tenth of May, next. How will this suit Mr. Brown ? Please see him, 
and let me know if he can wait so long. If he can, I will go down to the 
Bay in the first part of February; then we can come to a complete understand- 
ing. My sister is well, and thanks you for your message. When I visit San 
FraLcisco, she will be with mo as far as Colonel Eaton's, to whom she is anx- 
ious to pay a visit. 

" So you see, Brown, all goes right, so far, with this confiding 
young gentleman. I forgot to tell you that I had a long talk with 
Sam Brannan, whose acquaintance I have been cultivating. It 
would make you laugh to hear him, he is so fierce on thieves. 
One would suppose Sam was a saint himself, and that he never 
had anything to do witli gobbling up city property. He and 
some others are determined to organize a vigilance committee, 
to hunt out the Sydney thieves. I agreed with him, of course; 
and told him to put my name down for two hundred dollars, to 
help." 

" Well, Captain, that may make things hot for us here yet; 
but what would poor Sam do if this vigilance committee, as soon 
as they got through hanging and banishing the small thieves, 
should take the bit in their mouth, and just turn around on the 
big thieves ? The hypocritical villains, who are a sort of legal 
robbers, as you may say; that nice little gang of delectable 
spirits, who, sitting in council as the city fathers, the guardians 
of the people, contrived, by cunningly-devised ordinances, to 
transfer the city money, by a hundred thousand at a blow, into 
their own pockets, and for their own aggrandizement despoil the 
city of her inheritance of real estate. Yes; where, then, would 
be many of the fellows, now calling for a vigilance committee, 
if that was to happen ?" 

' ' In that respect you are right, Brown ; but that will not help 



548 HONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 

US, you know. In fact, it will make it worse ; for these fellows 
raise (he cry upon us to cover up their own work, and they will 
push it with zeal, you may be sure. So we have no time to lose 
in getting our fellows together, and making our final move." 

" Well, Captain, if you were not fascinated by this Yankee 
girl, we could be off in a week." 

" What is the use. Brown, in talking to me in that way ? My 
destiny, I tell you, is no ordinary one. As a wolf, I have planned 
and led on to murder and robbery on a small scale, and hunted 
dcnvn such small game as Lizzie Lawson in matters of love. But 
now, as a lion, I will take the broad ocean as my field, where I 
will plunder and murder as monarchs do. I will stand out 
boldly, with my bloody dagger in my hand, and call on all who 
dare to come and take me. And who will have the impudence to 
compare nie with those low, mean, sneaking thieves who obtain 
seats in city councils and in legislative halls, by hypocritical and 
lying pretences, for no other purpose than to enrich themselves 
and their confederates by betraying every trust reposed in them ? 
These fellows profess honesty, and even talk and make speeches 
about religion and God, while living and acting just as much in 
defiance of all laws, either human or divine, as I do. They add 
hypocrisy to their villainy. I do not; and surely a girl of the 
noble stamp of Minnie Wagner, if compelled to choose between 
me and one of those sneaking thieves, would prefer the bold, 
acknowledged outlaw." 

" Yes, Captain; I believe if compelled, as you say, she Avould 
take the bold villain before the sneaking thief. But the next 
question is, who is to compel Miss Minnie Wagner to choose the 
one or the other? I am satisfied that her clear judgment will 
enable her to avoid both; and I tell you that you are mistaken 
if you fancy that her brother will ever attempt to control her, for 
the fellow fairly worships the girl." 

" No, Brown; I do not expect him to control her; and I tell 
you that I expect to put him in a position where disgrace will 
stare him in the face, and then I will go to Minnie myself, and 
I will offer to save him, if she will take me for her husband. 
Then my game is made; for she will sacrifice herself to save 
him." 

"Well, Captain, if you can get him in that position, it will 
undoubtedly give you an immense power over him; but how you 
are to do that I cannot understand; for I can see that he is as 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFOENIA. 549 

watchful of his honor, in all respects, as a miser is of his gold." 

" I know all that. Brown; but you shall see when the time 
comes. You have nothing in you but the wolf, and he is natur- 
ally cowardly, and no match for the wolf and the lion together, 
you know." 

" 'VV'ell, well. Captain; I don't care to ha^e those sort of com- 
pliments; and, if I was inclined to pay them back, I would just 
tell you that sometimes it comes into my head that you are the 
child of the arch-fiend himself. Your ajjpetite for villainy seems so 
exquisite, and you never seem to suffer from remorse; while I 
sometimes have turns in which I taste hell itself!" 

Here Ward laughed, as he said: 

" Oh, you do ? Well, you may as well be getting used to it, 
old fellow, for that is where you are to go, sure. No; as you 
say, I never have such turns while I am awake; but, what is 
strange, they do come to me sometimes lately in my dreams." 

" Is that so. Captain ? Why, you surprise me ! I did not sup- 
pose that, either asleep) or awake, you ever knew such a feeling as 
fear of the future." 

" No, Brown; I am not afraid of it ; but, as I said, I have late- 
ly had strange visions in my dreams. Now, last night, for in- 
stance, I had a vision of hell, and I thought all the people I 
had ever helped out of the world were trying to drag me into it, 
and that I resisted them all, until, at last, I was astonished to 
see Lizzie Lawson come to drag me like the rest. I thought she 
gave out a terrible, frightful laugh as she took hold of me, and 
that I had no power to resist her. Sp, into the yawning chasm 
of molten fire she flung me, and, as I was tumbling in, I heard 
my mother's shriek as plainly as I used to do, when my father 
kicked and beat her. It was that shriek that awoke me. I was not 
long in finding that it was a dream,' and I laughed at its ab- 
surdity. That was the only effect it had on me." 

While Ward related his vision or dream, Brown's eyes were 
fixed on him with a frightened expression. Then he said, in a 
loud voice : 

" How strange that was about Lizzie Lawson! Have you and 
she had any difficulty?" 

"Difficulty! Of course not. She fairly fawns at my feet." 
Here Ward gave a chuckhng laugh, as he continued: " Why, 
she fancies herself my wife, already. I had to persuade her 
to that." 



550 PIONEER TIMES IX CALIFORNIA. 

" Does old Jack know how matters stand between you and 
Lizzie, Captain?" 

" No, no; I tliink she may have told him that I had promised 
to marry her; that is all." 

" Well, and how in the mischief are you to manage him when 
you throw her off? That is what I don't understand." 

" I told 3'ou before. Brown, that what looks full of difficulty 
to you, is an easy matter to me. I have this girl now in my power, 
so that I can make her lie and deceive her father and brothers in 
any way I like; and I will not undeceive her, a.s regards her re- 
lations with me, until the last moment. No; I will say nothing 
until I have Jack and his boys safe at sea, when they will be in 
my power, and will not dare to whimper. Yes; I can see my way 
clearly in the whole little game I have before me. So just do as I 
tell 3'ou, Brown, and all will come out right." 

"Well, Captain, if anything goes wrong, it will nob be my 
fault." 



CHAPTER XVI. 



CONFESSION OF LOVE — CAPTAIN WAED S AKEIVAL. 

It was on the 19th of February, 1851, soon after the conversation 
related in the last chapter, between Ward and Brown, that the 
memorable attack was made on the store of C. J. Janson & Co., 
in which the robbers got two thousand dollars, and left Mr. Jan- 
son for dead on the floor of his store. This was the most au- 
dacious robbery that had yet taken place, and it fired the whole 
peoiDle with indignation. They rose en masse, as it were, to hunt 
out the robbers. Two men were arrested on suspicion, and g;ave 
their names as Burdue and Windred. Mr. Janson thought he 
recognized these men as the parties who had robbed the store and 
attacked himself in such a murderous way. A public meeting 
was called to devise some means to put a stop to this thieving 
and robbery, or, at least, to check it, if possible. In all these 
movements, Sam Brannan and William T. Coleman took a lead- 
ing part, and, unfortunately, were too radical in their views. Bran- 
nan did not command much personal respect ; but Coleman was 
then, as he has always been since, universally respected, and he 
had, therefore, great influence with the conservative part of the 
community. He now joined Sam Brannan in urging the people 
to forthwith hang Burdue and Windred. Brannan made furious 
speeches, which were applauded by unthinking people. Not sat- 
isfied with this, Brannan had printed slips circulated among the 
excited crowd, urging the immediate lynch-law execution of the 
prisoners. And to these he affixed Coleman's name with his own, 
though it was generally believed at the time that William T. Cole- 
man never authorized him to do so. Be this as it may, it was for- 
tunate these efforts did not succeed, for the prisoners were soon 
afterwards proven, to the satisfaction of all, not to have been the 
men who committed the crime. This blunder checked the Vigi- 
lance Committee movement for the next three months, but it 
gave Ward and his gang a warning which lessened their depre- 



552 PIONEER TIMES IN CALITOENI^. 

dations very much. During all this excitement, Ward was one of 
the loudest and noisiest in urging the summary execution of Bur- 
due and Windred, whom he, of course, knew to be innocent. 
This zeal served to give him a good position with the leading 
spirits of the Vigilance Committee that sprang into such active 
life the following June. Thus matters were going on, when, late 
in February, Walter came to the cit}-, and completed his arrange- 
ments for entering into business with Brown. Walter was to put 
into the jDartnership five thousand dollars, and Brown fifteen 
thousand, and they were to be equal partners in all respects; but 
Brown was to have the right to withdraw ten thousand dollars of 
his capital at the expiration of the first year. The very da;y 
Walter signed these articles of partnership with Brown, James 
De Forest arrived from Oregon. Walter had written to him all 
about his intention of making this move, and so strong was De 
Forest's feeling against it that he made an excuse of business to 
come to San Francisco, in hopes of getting an opportunity to dis- 
suade Walter from taking the step. He was too late, however; 
for the papers were all executed and exchanged before he met 
Walter. Ward was again forced to put off his intention in re- 
gard to De Forest, on account of the great excitement over the 
arrest of Burdue and Windred, then only just subsiding. De 
Forest took a trip with Walter as far as Colonel Eaton's to see 
Minnie, who was there on a visit to Fannie. Minnie received 
him in the same free, joyous way she had always done. A 
dozen times during this visit, De Forest made up his mind to 
make a formal proposal to Minnie ; but in some unaccountable 
way she avoided giving him the opportunity. Then the third 
day came, which was the utmost limit he could give his stay. So, 
reluctantly, he was about to leave her, without coming to a full 
understanding. However, as he wished her good-bye, he whis- 
pered : 

" Will you not walk as far as the outside gate with me ?" 

With a blush, and a little tremor in her voice, she said : 

" Oh, yes ; certainly; with pleasure." 

As they now walked along the lane that led from the flower- 
garden gate to the outside main entrance, Minnie's head leant for- 
ward, and her sunshade hid her face. De Forest gently raised 
her arm, and placed it within his own. 

" Minnie," he began, in a low voice, " I was determined not 
to go away without having had a full talk with you; but some- 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 553 

liow you appear to have defrauded me out of an opportunity of 
doing so." 

" Well, if I did prevent you from saying all you want to say 
to me, James, come back as soon as Walter is nicely started in 
business in San Francisco, and I will listen to all you want to 
say to me; and we will try to agree, you know, if possible." 

" But why could we not have had the talk this time, Minnie ? 
But perhaps you prefer to wait to see if you may not find some 
one with whom you would like to talk better than you do with 
me." 

Minnie at once raised her eyes up to De Forest's face with a 
reproachful, almost sad look, and said: 

" And is that the way you think of me, James?" 

" No, no, Minnie; it is not the way I think of you; I did not 
mean it. I know you too well for that; and, Minnie, I tell you 
now what I never told you in plain words before." As he spoke 
he clasped the hand holding his arm with his disengaged one, 
and, putting his head down close to hers, said: " I love you with 
all my inmost life; I love you so that your happiness is a thou- 
sand times dearer to me than my own; I long, I yearn for your 
love in return; and yet, if you could be happier by giving that 
love to any one else, I would want you to do so. If I saw a dark 
cloud or a shadow on my path, I would never ask you to step 
beneath it with me; but when I look forward to the future, 
Minnie, and think of you as by my side in the journey through 
life, I can see no cloud or shadow, no tarnished name, no ease, 
no luxury, bought by dishonor, or a breach of confidence reposed 
either by the peojjle at large or by an individual. No; I can see 
no such cloud. I have been fortunate in business, thank God 
for it, and what I wanted in seeking a conversation with you was 
to offer to share all I have on earth with you, Minnie, and to 
pledge to you the devotion of a life in guarding your happiness. " 

Minnie, without seeking to withdraw her hand, raised her eyes 
with steadfast countenance to James' face, as she said, in a voice 
full of deep feeling: 

"James, if the freaks of fortune had thrown a shadow or a 
cloud on your path, something here," laying her hand on her 
heart, " tells me that I would fly to your side to strive to clear 
it away, or by standing beneath it with you to make it easier for 
you to endure. Yes; if you came to ask me to share with you a 
rugged, stormy journey through life, which it was your fate to 



bi.i PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORXIA. 

encounter, I -will acknowledge to you that, with Walter's con- 
sent, you would never have to ask a second time. But, James, 
you have now nothing but diamonds, luxury and sunshine to 
offer me to share, so I can, at least, ask you to defer this propo- 
sition until you come to us in San Francisco, when I hope you 
may find dear Walter well settled in business, and independent 
of all I could do for him. Then you shall sit down near me and 
make out the best excuse you can for your blindness and want 
of judgment, you know, in making me the offer you did to-day, 
which I was so considerate, you know, as not to accept, until you 
had time to recover your senses and see your mistake." 

"Well, Minnie, you make me happy and miserable both by 
what you say. Yes ; and almost make we wish that I had some 
dark cloud lowering over my future; for then your generous heart 
would compel you, as you acknowledge, to step beneath it with 
me. But, no, Minnie; I am not so selfish as that. I will try to 
be as generous as you are, and be satisfied to wait until I come 
down in May next for ray final answer. And, now, before part- 
ing, Minnie, let me say one word of this man Ward, I want to 
tell you that I have the strongest, overpowering dislike to him." 

As De Forest said this, Minnie involuntarily drew close to him, 
and he felt a shudder shake her arm as it rested on his. 

" Ah! you have the same feeling, I see, Minnie?" 

"Yes, James; I acknowledge I have at times a strange fore- 
boding about him . Perhaps it is because Mr. Hilton thinks so 
badly of him; but, j'ou can depend on it, I will be on my guard. 
And, now that you have spoken of it, I will tell you that it is an 
undefined fear of this man that makes me so determined not to 
leave Walter, or even think of anything that relates to myselt, 
until Ward proves himself to be all he says he is; or until we find 
his true past history', about which Mr. Hilton insists there is a 
mysteiy." 

" Well, now that I see you are on your guard, and that I know 
Isaac Hilton has his eyes open, I will be much easier. So, good- 
bye, Minnie, and may God bless 3'ou and guard jon both; and 
pray for me!" 

As he said the last words, he stooped, and before Minnie knew 
it^he had kissed her cheek, and found it wet Avith tears. 

" Good-bye, James," she said, looking up with a smile; " and 
do not go away thinking I amimhappy; for I am truly veiy happy, 
even if there is, in my imagination, a cloud on Walter's i^ath, 
that must be cleared away." 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNU. 555 

'* Aj^ain g-ood-bj-e, Minnie," said De Forest, as be leaped on 
bis borse; and, as botb now looked towards tbe outer gate, tbere 
stood Ward leaning over it, witb bis large, dark eyes full on them. 
It was as mucb as Minnie could do to suppress a scream. Sbe 
did, bowever, command berself in time, and bowed to Ward in 
recognition of bis presence. Ward bad evidently just arrived 
from Sacramento, and bad aligbted from bis borse to open tbe 
gate. As De Forest approached. Ward threw the gate open, 
saying: 

" How are you, De Forest? I am so glad to see you. Forgive 
me, my dear fellow, for intruding on you at such a moment; but 
I had just reached the gate as you and Miss Minnie came in sight, 
and, as I saw your conversation was peculiarly interesting to you 
both, I forbore passing until you got through." 

" You were most considerate. Captain," said De Forest, in a 
most sarcastic tone; " but I regret your stopping one moment, 
for your presence would not have made the least difference to 
me, one way or the other, I assure you; and it would have saved 
you a painful watch. Good afternoon, Captain !" 

As De Forest spoke, he drove bis long California spurs into 
bis horse's flanks, and was out of hearing before Ward could re- 
ply. As be dashed on bis road, he murmured to himself: 

" I feel easy, now that I know sbe is on her guard. What a 
noble, generous, dear girl she is ! Well, she's as good as ac- 
knowledged that she loved me; so I am sure of that, anywa}-. 
May is a long way off, yet it will be here soon, after all; and then 
I will be, as she said, sitting near her, and then — and then — oh, 
bow happy I shall be !" 

When De Forest rode off, Ward walked on through the gate, 
and soon overtook Minnie. 

"Miss Minnie," said be, "I was just apologizing to our 
friend De Forest for having come so inopportunely, to disturb that 
little tete-a-tete between 3'ouand him; but be received my apology, 
I must say, most ungraciously^ Miss Minnie. Have I ever acted 
towards you in any manner unbecoming a gentleman and a man 
of honor?" 

" Most certainly not, Captain." 

'• Well, then. Miss Minnie, all I ask is to be treated by your 
friends as a gentleman should be treated." 

"Most certainly. Captain. Whenever I have influence, you 
shall be treated in no other way." 



556 PIONEER TIMES Ds CAl,rFOR^^A. 

" Have you no influence -witli De Forest, Miss Minnie ? I liad 
an idea that the poor fellow was your slave." 

"You are mistaken Captain. There is no relation between 
Mr. De Forest and myself, that would authorize me to remark 
on his conduct towards any one." 

"No? "Well, then. Miss Minnie, permit me to say that he 
takes liberties I would not dare to take." 

Minnie felt her cheeks burn; but, preserving her calm voice, 
said: 

" Mr. De Forest and myself were brought up from childhood 
together, and we regard each other as almost brother and sister. 
So I am not disposed to quarrel with him because he sometimes 
seems to forget that we are no longer children, and that, in fact, 
we are not brother and sister." 

Ward remained silent for a moment as he walked on by Min- 
nie's side, leading his horse. Then he said: 

" Miss INIinnie, will you honor me by taking my arm?" 

Minnie knew that Ward had seen her leaning on De Forest's 
arm, and, from what he said, saw De Forest kiss her cheek. 
She wanted to decline taking his arm, but her doing that would 
give a marked significance to her free, off-hand treatment of De 
Forest, which she wished to avoid just now. So, without any 
hesitation that was perceptible to "Ward, she took his arm until 
she reached the flower-garden gate, when she made an excuse of 
j)icking some flowers, which she was now, apparently, veiy busy 
in arranging in a bouquet. Ward was evidently satisfied with 
Minnie's behavior to him, and selected some flowers for her, 
which she placed among the others, saying something comj^li- 
mentary to his taste. 

" Thank you. Miss Minnie," he said; " you do not know what 
a pleasure it is for me to think that flowers I have selected have 
a place Avith those gathered by yourself." 

Walter's approach at that moment relieved Minnie from the 
necessity of an answer. 

'•'Good morning. Captain," said W^alter, walking over and 
cordially shaking hands; "I am so glad to see you, as we are 
about to start back to Downieville early to-morrow morning, and 
I wanted to say a few words to you or to Brown on business 
which I had forgotten when I was in San Francisco, and of 
which I could speak better than I could write." 

" W^ell, Wagner, that is all right; but I will be candid with 
you, and tell you that it was not to see you that I came. I could 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA, 657 

not think of Jetting Miss Minnie return to Downieville without 
seeing her." 

Minnie bowed, and made a good effort at a smile. 

" That is all right, Captain; you are always so gallant that 
you could not say less; but business must be attended to. So, 
sister Minnie, please excuse us, and we will soon be in." 

Minnie was but too glad to excuse them; so, as Walter took the 
Captain's arm and walked off with him, she dashed into the 
house, and in a moment more was alone in her room. She 
closed the door, and walked quickly across to the open window, 
and threw the bouquet as far as she could into a field of tall 
wheat. As she did so, she said, in a low voice: 

" Some of you sweet flowers were innocent, but bad company 
has made you all intolerable to me." 

Then she went to her wash-stand, and, while seemingly ab- 
sorbed in thought, she poured out some water and carefully 
washed her hands, saying while she did so : 

" How foolish I am to have such a terrible dislike to that man; 
but I cannot control my feelings. I did not feel easy until I 
had thrown those flowers away and washed my hands. I must 
try, however, to get over it, for he is so attached to Walter." 

Minnie now threw herself into an easy chair, and seemed lost 
in thought. Then she said, half-aloud: 

" Poor James! How lonesome he looked when he was going 
away, all alone, for such a long journey up there to Oregon! I 
could not help shedding tears at the thought of it. He found 
that out when he kissed my cheek, and it made him feel worse, 
I fear; but I told him I was happy, and so I was, and am now. 
I did not know I loved him in the way he wishes me to love him. 
I knew I loved him as I loved Walter; but when he told me to- 
day how he wanted me to love him, it made me feel so strange, 
and, oh, so happy, that it must be that I love him as ho wants 
me to love hitn. How generous he was to give up urging me 
when I spoke of Walter! Well, he will come back in May, and 
I have promised to let him then sit near me and say all he wishes 
to say. This is February. March, April, May. Three months! 
That seems a long time; but I suppose it will not be long in 
passing, after all. " 

Then she paused, and then drew from her neck the locket 
containing Walter's miniature and James' rose-bud. She smiled 
as she looked at them, pressed the locket to her lips and re- 
placed it. 



558 PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 

At that moment Fannie opened the door, saying : 

*'May I come in?" 

" Oh, yes, dear Fannie; come in." 

" Do you know, Minnie, that Captain Ward is here?" 

" Oh, yes ; I have had a talk with him, and I will be ever so 
much obliged to you, dear Fannie, if you will entertain him ; 
and if he asks for me, just say that I have lain down, as I do not 
feel very well to-day ; for such, in fact, is the case. I was just 
about to lie on the sofa here when you opened the door." 

As Minnie spoke she wrapped a shawl around her, and cuddled 
up comfortably on the sofa. Fannie smiled archly, and said: 

" Minnie, would you feel too badly to go down if it was James 
De Forest who had to be entertained ?" 

Minnie blushed, and half-laughed, as she said : 

" Fannie, you are too bad ; but if it was James De Forest and 
Walter who had to be entertained, perhaps neither of us would 
have to coax the other much to undertake the task." 

Now Fannie blushed scarlet, while Minnie's eyes lit up with 
triumphant fun, as she exclaimed : 

" There ; I am even !" 

Fannie stooped over her, and whispered : 

"Minnie, you are a good-for-nothing, mischievous, wicked 
girl ; that is all I have to say." And she started out of the room, 
while Minnie laughed heartily. 

Ward found himself compelled to take the excuse Fannie gave 
for Minnie's non-appearance, and after lunch took his departure, 
leaving highly complimentary messages for Minnie. As he rode 
slowly towards Sacramento, he said : 

" Well, I caught them nicely ; but she turned it off well, and, 
in fact, it may be, as she says, that there is nothing between 
them, after all ; for his manner to her is more like that of a 
brother than a lover. Oh, he can not love her, anyway, as I do; 
for she haunts me like a phantom day and night. What a wild, 
maddening feeling I had while her arm was in mine. Oh, how 
near it brought me to acting the madman ! But her taking her 
arm away just at the time she did, saved us both ; and one thing 
I have decided on : I cannot have this fellow De Forest play- 
ing around her any longer. No; I will put Seagull Tim on his 
track as he goes back to Oregon. He always makes sure work of 
such jobs, and I will trust him this time, let the consequences be 
what they may. " 



CHAPTER XVn. 



ATTEMPTED ASSASSINATION — ^A CONSULTATION". 

About three days after Walter and Minnie had returned to High 
Canyon, Walter received a letter from Captain Ward, in which 
was inclosed a slip cut from the Portland, Oregon, local news- 
paper. In reference to this inclosure. Ward said : 

" You will see by the slip I inclose you that our mutual friend De Forest 
has had a truly wonderful escape from the hands of an assassin. How glad 
I am that the fellow paid with his life for his cowardlj' assault! We are in a 
quiet way doing all we can to ferret out who this fellow Lusk can be, that 
the dying rascal said had instigated him to the horrid crime. I think I 
know him, and, if I am right, he is now captain of a schooner which will be 
back in port in two or three months." 

Walter, in the greatest excitement, called Minnie, and said : 
" You must not be frightened, Minnie, when I tell you that 
James De Forest has had an escape from death. He is, however, 
well, and perfectly safe — thank God ! Our friend. Captain Ward, 
sends us the account. Here it is, in a slip cut from an Oregon 
paper." 

So Walter read the following aloud, while Minnie sat on the 
sofa, trembling and pale: 

In the matter of the inquest held to-day on the bodj' of Timothy But- 
ton, alias "Seagull Tim," Mr. James De Forest, being sworn, said to the 
Coroner's jury: After we were a day at sea, on my last trip from San Fran- 
cisco, I observed, as I thought, a man watching all my movements, particu- 
larly when I was alone, which annoyed me very much, as I was somewhat 
inclined to be alone on this trip home. One evening I walked forward, and, 
as I thought, unobserved by any one, I climbed up and sat upon a furled 
sail upon the bowsprit, and was lost in thought, with my eyes on (ho break- 
ing, foaming waves our bark was dashing through. After a few minutes, I 
was startled from my reverie by a noise as of a fall behind me; I turned 
quickly, and, throwing my eyes over the sail I was seated on, I saw the de- 
ceased here just jumping up from the deck, where he had evidently fallen 
from somewhere near my position. I drew my revolver in an instant, and 
leaped on the deck beside him. He looked at me in apparent surprise, saying: 



560 PIONEEB TIMES. Hi-CALTFOENlA. 

" Oh, I did not know there was any one up there." 

" I don't know whether to believe you or not; but I am satisfied that you 
have your eyes a little too much on me to be comfortable. Now, once for 
all, I warn you that if I catch you following me in any way, on this ship or 
when we get to Oregon, I will blow the top of your head off as sure as you 
are a Sydney duck; for I know where you come from by the cut of your jib, " 
The fellow said, in a sullen way, as he walked off: 

" I meant no harm, and I did not know you were there." 

After that the fellow kept out of my way for the rest of the voyage. On 
arriving in Portland, after I took supper at the hotel here, I went to the 
store of Dunne & Co., and remained there until half-past ten o'clock writing 
letters. On my way back to the hotel, I thought I observed a man following 
me; so, drawing my revolver, I stopped right up to wait for him; but, who- 
ever he was, as soon as he saw I had stopped he turned down another street, 
and I saw no more of him. On reaching the hotel, the landlord showed me 
my room. There were two beds in it, and the landlord requested me to 
leave the door iinlooked, as he expected a gentleman to come in during the 
night, to whom he would be obliged to give the other bed. I said all right. 
But this fact, and a sort of disagreeable impression remaining:on my mind in 
regard to being followed in the street, made me cautious, and I examined 
my revolver and laid it and my bowie-knife carefully under my pillow. I 
slept, but not soundly or quietly, and. as T lay half-asleep, about two 
o'clock in the night, I thought I heard footsteps on the stairway. I at first 
supposed it was the ^Jerson who was to occupy the other bed; but, as I 
listened, I became aware that it must be some one stealing their way cau- 
tiously. So I reached to my revolvei', cocked it, and let my hand rest on it 
under the pillow. The door was now slowly opened, and then I could 
discern the figure of a man approaching my bed. My first impulse was to 
raise my revolver and order him to throw up his hands; but I thought the 
fellow was coming to rob my clothes, so I determined to wait until he was in 
the act of rifling my pockets. He was now close to me, and stooped, as 
I thought, to take up my pantaloons that lay on the chair close to my 
bed; but, instead of that, he threw himself forward, with a quick, still 
movement, and made a desperate blow at me with something in his right 
hand. The blow was so sudden and unexpected that I had no time to 
move; but, somehow, I shrank back, perhaps two inches, before the blow 
fell, and it was well I did, for I felt the cold blade of the bowie-knife pass 
close to my collar-bone and throat as it was driven into the bed. In an in- 
stant my revolver was vap, and I fired, breaking the robber's right arm, as 
I afterwards found. The fellow dropped the knife, swore a terrible oath and 
fled. I leaped after him, but it was so dark on the stairway that I could 
not see to fire again. 1 called loudly to the landlord to intercept the robber. 
The landlord, as he will tell you, gentlemen of the jury, heard me, leaped 
out of his bed, and snatched up his shot-gun just in time to give the 
fellow its contents as he was escaping out the door. 

He fell, and wo picked him up, and, bringing him in, he proved to be 
the man who had annoyed me so much on the passage from San Francisco . 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALDTOENU. 561 

He was in a dying condition, and spoke in a wild, often incoherent way. 
TVe saw life was fast ebbing away, but, notwithstanding this, the landlord 
sent for a doctor. I asked the fellow his name. He said, in a faint voice, 
" Timothy Dutton; but they call me Seagull Tim." " What did you want to 
kill me for?" said I. He answered, in a half-suflfocated voice, with his eyes 
shut: " Oh, it was a cold sort of a job; I did not like it. I did not want it; 
but the Captain said he wanted you out of the way, and told me he would 
give me a thousand dollars for the job, and all my expenses, and I under- 
took it; not so much for the pay as that I wanted to please the Captain. I 
did him a good turn once before; for it was I, and he will tell you so, who 
brought down Captain Jackson, by thrusting my knife in his back when 
thej^ had their big last fight, that made him our Captain." Here the wretch 
seemed to die away altogether; but with a considerable effort he again 
aroubf^d himself, and said, " Tell the Captain I was true to him to the last," 
" Yes," said I, " I will tell him. What is his name ?" " His name, his name," 
repeated the dying man, seeming to try to collect his scattered senses; "yes, 
his right name is Captain Lusk, but, but we here in California call — yes, in 
California — call him — yes, we call him ^—" The wretch said no more, for 
he was dead; and so the doctor found him when he arrived. 

As Walter read the last words Minnie, without speaking, 
arose and went into her room. She closed the door and dropped 
on her knees beside her bed, and, with her face buried in her 
hands, gave way to her feelings in a burst of thankfulness to 
God for His wonderful protection of him she so dearly loved. 
Her words of praise and thankfulness were accompanied by a 
flood of tears she could not hold back. They were tears of 
gratitude to God and of sympathy for the danger James De 
Forest had passed through. 

When Isaac Hilton read the account of the attack on De 
Forest, he remained in thought for a long time. Then he said 
to Mrs. Swan: 

" I have an idea who this Lusk is, that the robber spoke of; 
but I do not say a word, for, of course, I might bo mistaken; 
and I hope I am mistaken, for Walter Wagner's sake." 

The next day Walter received a long letter from James' De 
Forest himself, giving all the particulars of the attempt on his 
life, but at the same time making light of it. The only thing 
that disturbed him, he said, was to find that he had such a bit- 
ter enemy. He concluded the subject by saying: 

A horrible suspicion as to who this man Lusk, who seeks my life, is, has 
forced itself on my imagination. When I go to the city in May, I will take 
some trouble to investigate the matter. I will do this in justice to the party 
I am forced to suspect. I will, therefore, mention no names now, particu- 
ticularly as I hope to find that I am totally in the wrong. 
36 



562 PIO^TEEK TMES IN CALIFOE>nA. 

The last few words of the letter seemed to be addressed di- 
rectly to Minnie, in this way: 

Now, mj' dear Miss Minnie, pray on for rae; for I cannot but believe 
that it was those prayers you promised me that saved me from the assassin's 
hand, and that makes life sweeter than ever to me; and I want you to con- 
sider it all at your service as a matter of right, 

As Walter finished reading, he exclaimed: "Who can it be 
that De Forest suspects ? I cannot imagine." 

Minnie gave a little start and a shudder, but said nothing. 

The morning that the news of Seagull Tim's attempt on De 
Forest's life reached San Francisco, Ward was seated in his room, 
at the finest hotel in the city, the Oriental, quietly smoking 
his cigar, when Brown burst into his room in great excitement, 
closed the door, and said in almost a whisper: 

" Seagull Tim made a mis-blow, and I fear our game is all 
up." 

" He did !" said Ward, as he turned deadly pale. "Well, I 
will sink him with a piece of lead fastened to his neck, in the 
middle of the bay when the dog gets back." 

" No, you -will not; for he is dead." 

'"* Dead !" repeated Ward. 

"Tes. Here, take this Portland paper and read the account 
for yourself." 

As Brown handed the paper, he pointed out the place where 
the account of the Coroner's inquest was given. While Ward 
read, he was more agitated than Brown had ever seen him. 
When he concluded, he growled out: 

" Well, all is right. The miserable villain choked before he 
betrayed us. That is first-rate, anyway." 

Brown made no remark, and Ward arose and paced the floor 
in thought for some minutes. Then he said : 

" You see. Brown, I am in luck after all ; for, if that dog had 
lived half a second longer, we would now be in the hands of Sam 
Brannan and Wm. T. Coleman, and their merciful lambs, on our 
way, most likely, to ornament some impromptu gibbet, for the 
amusement of those Yankees, So, you see, as I say, luck is on 
our side, or it may be that the devil has too much business for 
us yet, to let us be caught. Oh, how glad I am that the fellow 
choked just as he did!" 

"I was in hopes. Captain," said Brown, in a dogged tone, 
" that this would show you the necessity of abandoning your 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 563 

views about this "Wagner girl. Everything, you know, is ready. 
We could be off in less than an hour, if you would only give 
the word. This San Francisco is a great place to be recognized in. 
Some one may arrive from Sydney who knew you there, or from 
your old home in England. It is a terrible risk to run, now that 
the name of Lusk is connected with a California or Oregon 
crime." 

*' Pshaw I Brown; you are a child. I often told you so before. 
You are of the wolf breed, and cannot understand the boldness 
of the lion. I have told you three times before that I am, in 
truth, infatuated by this girl, and can no more draw myself off 
from pursuing her, no matter what the consequence may be, 
than I could subdue a storm at sea, that was rushing me on the 
rocks." 

" Well, Captain, I hope this passion of yours will not rush us 
all on the rocks; that is all." 

'■ Don't be a coward. Brown. I tell you that luck is on my 
side. See how nicely Tim choked just at the right moment." 

"I wish he had choked before he mentioned the name of 
Lusk," said Brown. 

" Yes; that would, of course, have been better, decidedly, as 
you say, Brown; but it is all right as it stands. Was not Wild 
choked just as he was going to point me out ! One word more, 
and I would have been gone!" A.nd here Ward chuckled in his 
peculiar way, as he continued: " Oh, the old villain ! how his 
eyes leaped out towards me, as it were, when he saw me in the 
crowd; but his arms being pinioned saved me, and in a moment 
more he was swinging in fine style. Oh, yes; I managed that 
first-rate, and luck is on my side surely. Brown. " 

" I forgot to tell you. Captain, that, at old Jack's request, I 
called to see his daughter Lizzie yesterday. I found her well, 
but very anxious to see you. She said you had not been there 
for some days, and told me that if I saw you to ask you to call. 
I believe, Captain, that she loves you better than she loves her 
life; and she is really very handsome, and, in truth, a really edu- 
cated lady in her manners. She would go with you to the end of 
the earth ; I could see that. How I do wish that you could be 
satisfied with her, and then we could take her on board and be 
off to sea !" 

Ward stopped short in his walk up and down the room, and, 
turning to Brown, said, in a most angry tone : 



564 HONEEB TIMES IN CALIEOENIA. 

" I tell you, Brown, that you must never again suggest my 
doing what I have so often told you it was impossible for me to 
do — that is, to give up Minnie Wagner. Since our last conver- 
sation on this subject, I have grown half mad in regard to her. 
I think of her all day, and dream of her all night. When I am 
near her now, I am a man like other men, it appears to me, and 
every tone of her voice reverberates through me. Yes; strange 
as it is, I love that girl to almost madness. AVhen she put her 
arm on mine the other day, a strange feeling I never experienced 
before took possession of me. I could not say a word to her. 
I had a notion of dropping on my knees before her, and telling 
her how I loved her, and swearing fidelity to her ; and then, if 
she discarded me, of killing her and myself both on the spot. 
Yes ; if our walk had been ten yards longer, that is what would 
have happened ; but we reached the garden-gate just in time to 
save me from the mad act. Then she took some flowers from me, 
and spoke so kindly to me that I was in a wild dream of love — 
yes, love — all the way back to San Francisco. No, Brown ; my 
fate, as I often told you before, is linked to this girl in some 
mysterious way, and she shall marry me, or die by my hand ; 
that is decided. If you admire that girl Lizzie so much, I will 
turn her over to you, and you are welcome to her. I want no 
more of her." 

" No, no. Captain ; thank you! I want nothing to do with her. 
I prefer to die some other way than by old Jack's sheath-knife 
being drawn across my throat some bright morning." 

" Pshaw ! Brown; his sort have no such feeling as you suppose. 
I will take my queen, my empress that is to be, on board the Blue 
Bell, right before the eyes of old Jack and his two sons, and you 
will see that they will cringe like wolf whelps before my look, and 
obey me like kicked dogs." 

" Well, Captain, a sort of luck does seem to be with you. So 
lead on, and I will not flinch." 

Ward did not speak for a few minutes, but continued his walk 
up and down the room in thought. At length, he said : 

" Yes, Brown ; all j'ou have to do is to follow where I lead, and 
all will come out right. In the first place, I will have to see the 
principal men of the Vigilance Committee, and mislead them as 
to who this man Lusk is. I will pretend that I know him, and that 
he is now at sea in command of a schooner, and you know we can 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 5G5 

keep him at sea until we have left the harbor ourselves. I will 
also write to Wagner and De Forest, intimating that I am on 
Lusk's tracks." 

This ended the conference, and Ward carefully pursued the 
-plan he had laid out, and was most successful in deceiving all 
who took an interest in the matter of the attempted murder. In 
a few days, as was always the case in California at that time, the 
whole circumstance of the attempted assassination of De Forest 
appeared forgotten. 



CHAPTER XVni. 



THE ROBBEKY — MINNIE S ENCOtJRAGEMENT. 

The terms of separation between "Walter and Hilton were that 
Hilton was to take the store goods and all moneys due the firm 
in High Canyon, for which he was to. pay Walter nine thou- 
sand dollars. Seven thousand of this was to be cash down, and 
one thousand in three months, without interest, and one thou- 
sand in four months, also without interest. The date of the dis- 
solution of partnership was to be May 10th. These terms were 
satisfactory to both parties, although Hilton very much regretted 
Walter's withdrawal, and had done all he could to dissuade him 
from doing so. Since the date of Minnie's arrival in High Can- 
yon, everything had been so bright and cheerful that Hilton looked 
forward to her leaving with the most lonesome feeling. Good 
Mrs. Swan, too, felt very much down-hearted at the prospect be- 
fore her. She really loved Miunie, and found it very hard to 
part from her; and then she must of course lose a nice harbor she 
had found in her sorrowful widowhood. One day, as the 10th of 
May was very near in its approach, Mrs Swan sat absorbed in sad 
thoughts of her peculiar position, and tears were flowing down 
her cheeks. She gazed out of the dining-room window in a 
vacant way. Isaac Hilton, happening to j)ass, looked up and 
saw the tears on the widow's face. He stopped, turned around, 
and walked towards the dining-room, saying to himself: 

" Why, she looks as sad as I have felt all day myself. I will 
see what is the matter, for I respect and like her very much." 

Well, we will not follow the good Isaac in his mission of 
charity; for he might prefer to be alone. But certain it is, that a 
great improvement in the spii'its of both Mrs. Swan and Mr. 
Hilton api^cared that afternoon; so much so that Walter and 
Minnie remarked it. The explanation did not fully appear until 
the morning of Walter and Minnie's departure, when they were 
surprised to find that Mrs. Swan and Mr. Hilton were unusually 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFOBNU. 5G7 

fixed up, and were to accompany them as far as DownieviUe. 
They now began to see through the matter, and were not mis- 
taken; for, on reaching Downieville, Walter and Minnie were 
invited to stand up as witnesses for their two friends. They 
accepted the invitation with great pleasure, and soon after took 
their leave of Mr. and Mrs. Hilton, v/ho did not look a bit lone- 
some. 

"Walter had with him the seven thousand dollars in gold-dust, 
received in accordance with his agreement with Hilton. Five 
thousand of this was to be paid in as his share of the capital 
of the new firm of Wagner & Brown, and two thousand was to 
be used in furnishing the cottage he had rented in San Francisco, 
Brown had already bought the furniture and fitted up the cottage, 
and Walter was to pay the bills on reaching the city. Waiter 
and Minnie arrived safely in the citj'. Brown and Ward met 
them at the wharf, as the boat arrived, about half-past nine in 
the evening. Captain Ward was all attention, and whispered to 
Walter: 

"Give the packages of gold-dust to Brown, and he will put 
them in our safe at the Oriental Hotel, where we have some 
twenty thousand belonging to Brown and myself, which was 
paid to us this evening after banking hours. It will be perfectly 
safe, as Brown will stay in the room until I get there, and in the 
morning we will deposit the whole with Page, Bacon & Co." 

As a matter of course, Walter did not hesitate to hand over 
Ms two bags of gold-dust to his new partner. Then, taking Min- 
nie's arm, Walter invited Ward to walk with them to the cottage. 
The cottage was situated between two sand-hills on Pine street, 
a, little above Kearny street. Jane, the hired girl that Brown 
had procured for Minnie, had some supper all ready for them, 
and everything looked neat and in order. The furniture was 
■verj' handsome, and Minnie felt quite happy in taking possession 
of her new home. Ward was less pressing in his attentions and 
compliments to Minnie than usual, and she thought that, per- 
haps from this ver}' fact, he never looked to so much advantage 
before. However, she did not feel easy in his company; so, 
making an excuse of fatigue from traveling, she retired almost 
immediately after their cup of tea. An hour later, when Ward 
had left, Walter knocked at his sister's door to wish her a good- 
night, and, receiving no answer, he gently opened the door and 
softly advanced, with the light in his hand^ §Jose to her bed, 



568 PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 



He saw that she was a^^parently iu a sound, sweet sleep. Her 
long hair was flung back loose over the pillow behind her; her 
face was turned towards him; her cheek rested in one hand, 
while the other arm lay at full length outside the clothes. Wal- 
ter's heart swelled with admiration and brotherly pride as he 
said to himself: " God bless her!" 

And now, my dear young readers, I fancy that you stand by 
Walter at that moment, and that you exclaim: " Sleep on, 
poor, dear Minnie; draw all the strength from that sweet sleep 
j^ou can to invigorate your beautiful physical structure; for you 
will need it all. Yes, Minnie; dream of your childhood; your 
sweet mother; and in your dream sit again in her lap as you 
used to do. Throw your arms around her neck; lay your head 
on her noble bosom; listen again to her wise counsel and earnest 
teachings; and draw from it a new inspiration of faith and forti- 
tude. Yes, Minnie; and in that dream drop again upon your 
knees, and ask a father's and a mother's blessing, as you 
did long ago; for, oh, Minnie, to-morrow's light will bring to 
your new home the first chilly blast of the storm that has been 
gathering and brewing over you. Yes; a storm so dark and ter- 
rible that at times you can see no path by which to escape; but 
your unwavering trust in God will fill your true woman's heart 
with courage and confidence, as it has in every difficulty; and, 
though dark the way before you, in the light of His law you 
will step forward with unfaltering tread, and His angels will 
guard your feet from every danger, and lead you through every 
difficulty." 

When the brother and sister met the next morning, they were 
happy and cheerful. As breakfast was concluded, the bell rang, 
and, ou Walter's going to the door, he found a message from 
Captain Ward, desiring his presence, as soon as it was possible, 
at the Oriental Hotel. In obedience to the summons, Walter 
took his hat and left immediately. As soon as Walter had gone, 
Minnie put on her walking-dress and hat, and, taking the hired 
girl with her, who was familiar with the way to Father Maginnis' 
church, near the Orphan Asylum, on Market street, they found 
the old man very busy about the asylum. Minnie, without hesi- 
tation, opened her business to him, which was to take two seats 
iu his church. 

" Tut, tut ! Could you not do that, as everybody else does it, 
on Saturday afternoon ?" 



n 



PIONEER TIMES IX CALIFORNIA. 5G9 

" I did not know it made any difference, Father, on what day 
I came." 

" Difference ! Of course it does. Don't you see how very busy 
I am ?" 

"Well, Father, I will come on Saturday, as you can not at- 
tend to it now," said Minnie, rising to go, and feeling a little 
mortified at the manner of her reception. 

" And come all the way here again in this deep sand and wind ? 
What would you do that for ?" 

" Oh, as you are so busy, Father." 

" Well, I suppose you have business, too; for every one in 
California has business, and as much as they can do, too, without 
being bothered to make two journeys about one thing ; so come 
with me." 

They entered the church by a side door. Everything looked 
calm, still and solemn in the little church. The Father turned 
towards the altar, dropped on his knees, and remained a minute 
with his head bowed down in prayer. Minnie slipped into an 
open pew, and followed his example. The Father arose, and 
beckoned her to draw near him, and in a whisper said, as he 
pointed to an open pew : 

' ' How would you like your two seats in that pew ?" 

" Thank you; that will do nicely. Father;" and Minnie followed 
the priest out of the church. As soon as they were outside, she 
said: " Now, Father, how much am I to pay?" 

He named the sum necessary for three months, and she handed 
him the money. As he wrote the receipt, he said: 

" Wagner — that is an uncommon name for a Catholic, but I 
knew a worthy couple in Newark, New Jersey, of that name. I 
was two or three times at their house with Father Kelly.", 

" Yes, Father; and they were my parents." 

"Your parents !" said Father Maginnis in surprise, looking 
closely for the first time at Minnie, and continuing: "Yes; you 
do look like Mrs. Wagner. I see it now." 

" Yes, Father; and that was one of the reasons why I came this 
morning, for here is a letter to you from mother, drawing herself 
to your recollection." 

" Oh, I recollect her well," said the Father, taking the letter, 
and continuing: " And why were you going away a few minutes 
ago, without handing me this letter? But I suppose you thought 
I was a cross old fellow, and that you would not give me the 
letter?" 



570 PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 



Minnie was about to give some other excuse, when the Father 
interrupted her with: 

" Never mind; when you know me a little, you will find I am 
not so cross, after all." 

He read the letter carefully through, and, turning to Minnie, 
said in a familiar way : 

"Minnie, bring your brother to see me; and when you write 
home, say to your mother that I will try to make you and him be- 
have yourselves while you stay in San Francisco." 

Then looking at Minnie again, he said : 

" There are a good many fellows here who will try to marry 
you, Minnie; but don't listen to any of them until you tell me. 
Tell your brother Walter I said this." 

Minnie blushed, and said: 

'■'Oh, Father, do not be afraid about that! I do not want to 
get married. But, if I ever do change my mind, I will never 
take any one who is not approved of by you and Walter both." 

" Minnie, do you play and sing ?" 

" Yes, sir; a little." 

" I thought so, from your voice. When you get settled, will 
you help us with our choir on Sundays ?" 

" Yes, sir; with great pleasure." 

" Well, come next Sunday, and I will introduce ycu. Grood- 
bye, Minnie; I am in a great hurry." 

So Minnie was on her way back, well pleased with rough, kind- 
hearted Father Maginnis, and San Francisco began already to 
feel more like home. She felt as though she had thrown out an 
anchor to steady and hold their little craft in case of a storm. 

When Walter reached the Oriental Hotel, he was shown up 
to Captain Ward's room. There he found everything looking in 
confusion and excitement. In one corner stood two policemen, 
talking earnestly, but in low, mysterious voices, to Ward, and 
to each other. As Walter entered, the door was locked behind 
him, and Ward came forward, and, in a sad, dejected tone, 
said: 

" My dear, dear fellow, I have sad news for you this morning; 
but I hope you will bear it like a man." 

" Well," said Walter, in a bold voice, " out with it, without 
preface." 

" All right; I see you have the true Yankee pluck about you, 
Walter. Well, we were robbed of every dollar we had in the 



1 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 571 

safe, and your seven thousand is, of course, gone with our twenty- 
thousand !" 

Walter was stunned for a moment, and remained without 
speaking; all his hopes and prospects of yesterday he saw now 
dashed with one blow to the ground. He tried to rally, but the 
blow was too severe to be at once overcome. So, without speak- 
ing, he began to walk up and down the room, in deep thought. 
His first thoughts were all of Minnie; her comfortable new home, 
where she and he had both expected so much enjoyment, had 
vanished. Then his thoughts ran back to his darling mother, to 
whom he had just written, urging her to make immediate prepa- 
rations to join them in San Francisco. Then Fannie Eaton, 
somehow, came into his thoughts, and his heart sank very low, 
and he felt a suffocating sensation, as if half-choking. Then he 
made another effort to rally. He stopped short, and stamped 
with his foot on the floor, as if out of patience with himself and 
others, and, looking at the policemen and Ward, he exclaimed: 

" Let the confounded money go! But how was it done? I 
would like to know that." 

Ward started at this sudden address and change in Walter's 
demeanor; but, recovering himself in a moment, he explained 
how he had been chloroformed, and how the robbers had taken 
the key of the safe, which, unfortunately, had only a simple lock, 
out of his vest jDOcket, from under his head. Then he intro- 
duced the two policemen to Walter, and told him that they ad- 
vised that the robbery should be kept perfectly quiet, and that 
no one, in fact, should be informed of it. The policemen then 
explained to Walter that this was their best chance of tracing 
out the robbers, and that they had great hopes of yet recovering 
the money; but that it might take days, and even weeks, to do 
it, and that all would depend on the robbery being kept perfectly 
secret. Walter listened to all this, and then said: 

" Well, in my judgment, the best way is to go right straight 
to Sam Brannan and William T. Coleman, and lay the case be- 
fore them, and they will arouse the whole people in a search, 
and we will be almost sure to get the robbers, if not the money." 

" Well, Walter, that would be patriotic, anyway; and I have a 
mind to agree to it, although I know it would make it perfectly 
sure that neither you. Brown nor myself would ever recover a dol- 
lar of the lost money ; for, when the robbers would find them- 
selves run close, they would throw the money in the bay rather 



572 PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 

than be taken with it. However, if you feel like giving up the 
almost certainty of recovering the raoney, for the sake of making 
a fuss over the robbery — for that is all your plan would amount 
to — I will go in with you against my own judgment, and the 
judgment of Brown and these two policemen. But Brown will be 
here in a few minutes with two of the Vigilance Committee de- 
tective police. Let as hear what they advise." 

So Walter agreed to wait, and in a few minutes more Brown 
arrived with two men, whom he introduced as detectives of the 
Vigilance Committee. As they entered the room. Ward whis- 
pered to Walter: 

" You can rely on these men, Wagner; for it was I who got 
Coleman to place them in the service of the Vigilance Com- 
mittee." 

On being consulted, these men were even more decided than 
were the city policemen as to the policy of secrecy, and offered 
to take the matter into their own hands to work up. The result 
was that Walter consented to this mode of proceeding. Ward 
then took Walter aside, and said, in a depressed voice: 

" You will liave, my friend, to let your poor, dear sister into 
the secret; but caution her against mentioning it to any one. I 
assure you, my friend, I feel more for her in this matter than I 
do for any of us." 

" T do not doubt it, Captain; but she is a little soldier from 
her childhood up, and I am not sure but that she will bear it 
better than any of us. " 

" Well, I trust so, friend Walter; so go and break it to her 
gently, and, in an hour or so, I will call and consult with you as 
to what had best be done; for all those bills for your furniture 
are to come in to-morrow, you know." 

Walter started, turned a little pale, and said: 

" Yes, sure enough; what on earth will I do ?" 

" Well, that is a very hard matter to decide, Walter; but I 
will call as I said, and we will consult about it. So go to your 
poor sister without delay." 

Walter left, and he was no sooner out of the room than a gen- 
eral merry laugh ran round the crowd he left behind him. 

" Well, Captain," said Brown, " you did that well, as you al- 
ways do when you hold the helm yourself." 

" None of your laughing, boys," said Ward; " we have a nice 
game to play yet, and if you all do your parts as well as you did 
to-day, all will work to a charm." 



tlONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 573 

Then, turning to Brown, be said: 

•' Go at once and start in all those bills for the furniture, and 
tell each man to say that he will call to-morrow afternoon for the 
money, in accordance with terms they sold on. I will be at the 
house when the bills come, and will work up this part of my 
plan." 

When "Walter reached home, Minnie had just taken off her 
things, and was giving some directions about lunch in a cheer- 
ful, happy voice, while the hired girl listened and talked at the 
same time. 

" "Well, wasn't the old Father cross at first, though?" 

" Oh, yes, Jane, a little ; but it is his manner. You can see that, 
and that he has a very kind, loving heart." 

" Oh, yes, Miss; sure that must be so, or he wouldn't take to 
caring for helpless children as a business for his whole life; that 
is plain. Miss." 

" I was glad to find he remembered mother and father. It 
makes me feel as if I had found an old friend here in San Fran- 
cisco. He is the first I have found in the whole State, excejDt 
one gentleman who is now in Oregon, though it is said that San 
Francisco is the greatest place in the world for meeting with old 
friends." 

•' Yes, Miss; so they say. But I have only just arrived from 
the States, and have met no one I knew before, as yet." 

Minnie at that moment heard Walter's step in the sitting-room, 
and went to meet him. The moment her eyes rested on him, she 
saw something was wrong. His step was slow, his eyes turned 
away from her look, and he was very pale, and looked excited. 
She stopped short, as she walked towards him, saying : 

" Walter dear, are you sick ?" 

Without at once answering, he threw himself into a chair, and 
said : 

" No, Minnie, dear; I am not sick, but I have some very bad 
news to tell you, and you must be a brave little woman and stand 
up against it." 

With one bound, Minnie was opposite his chair, with her hands 
clasped tightly before her, her head leaned forward, her eyes 
fixed on Walter, and her whole expression of face, that of in- 
tense alarm ; while the only word that escaped her lips was: 

"Mother!" 

" No, Minnie, no; I have heard nothing from dear mother, and 
am sure she is well," 



574 PIONEER TIIIES IX CALIFORNIA. 

"James De Forest?" said Minnie, without a change of posi- 
tion or countenance, but in a lower and softer tone. 

" No, no, Minnie; it is not — " 

" Fannie Eaton?" went on jMinnie, without waiting to hear 
Walter. 

" No, no, Minnie; it is not the death of any one." 

" Oh, thank God ! thank God !" said Minnie. And she stood 
erect and clasped her hands on her temples, as if to steady her 
excited thoughts. Then she threw herself into a chair near her 
brother, saj-ing: 

" Oh, dear Walter, I know your news must indeed be bad, fcr 
3'ou look so sad and pale. But I can bear it now with com- 
posure, for I know it is not to take away our lives or the lives of 
loved ones; nor can it tarnish our names; and anything else, 
Walter, Californians ought not to shrink from. All last night 
my dreams were of poor father and darling mother. I was with 
them; and oh, so happy! And they spoke to me of God, of truth, 
of courage and of fortitude, and smiled and blessed me. So they 
were in m}' mind all day, and when you told me of bad news, I 
could think of nothing but poor mother." 

Walter took Minnie's hand in his, and said : 

"Your words have already given me courage, Minnie, so I do 
not hesitate to tell you that last night we were robbed of every 
dollar I brought down to the city. In all, seven thousand dol- 
lars." 

Minnie stopped for a moment, while her hand grasped her 
brother's tightly. Then, looking up calmly in his face, she said: 

" Walter, it is but a very little time since you arrived in this 
very city, without a dollar in your jDocket, and fifty dollars in 
debt, and without any experience of California life. You drove 
team for White, McGlynn & Co., to make j'our first start. Three 
times since then you made a handsome beginning after a sweep- 
ing loss. You can do the same again. Yes; and, if I cannot help 
you in your first move, I will at least be no drawback, for, you 
know, I can make hundreds of dollars giving music lessons in 
ihis city, which I will do until such time as you get a little ahead 
again." 

" Oh, Minnie, I am ashamed of myself when I hear you speak. 

You are always so hopeful, so courageous. Difficulties appear 

to be your glory, and somehow yon always triumph over them." 

" Walter, I am but your sister in that respect; for every time 



tlONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 575 

fortune lias turned you back, you have pushed on again, and 
again won a new position. " 

" Well, then, Minnie, let come what will, we will not be dis- 
couraged. Our present greatest difficulty is to pay for this furni- 
ture. Captain Ward says he has something to suggest in regard 
to this point of the business; so let us hear what he has to say, 
before we decide what to do." 

Then Walter told Minnie how the robbery had been effected, 
and all the particulars. And just as he had concluded doing so, 
he saw Ward across the street. Walter went to the door, and, as 
he reached it, the bell rang. The Captain was evidently sur- 
prised to meet the brother and sister in such calm and self- 
possessed spuits. Minnie extended her hand to meet his, and 
said, ^Yith a smile : 

" So you and Mr. Brown lost, too, Captain ?" 

" Oh, yes, my dear Miss Minnie; we lost all our ready money." 
And then he added, in a low, mysterious voice : ' ' But I have 
great hopes, by keeping the matter a perfect secret, that we will 
recover most of the lost money." 

" Yes ; so my brother tells me. But I must confess I am not 
sanguine." 

Then, after some further talk over the robbery, Jane announced 
that lunch was ready, and the Captain accepted an invitation to 
join them, saying : 

" After lunch I will explain to you, Wagner, how you had bet- 
ter manage these furniture bills." 

Wliile they sat at lunch, the bell rang four times, and each 
time the girl went to the door, she came back with a bill for 
furniture, and a message that they would call to-morrow, in the 
afternoon, for the money. When lunch was over. Ward and 
Walter lit their cigars, and retired to a little porch at the back 
part of the house, to smoke. When seated, Ward began : 

" Friend Wagner, I see this terrible loss has put you in a 
tight place, old fellow. Now, there is but one way out of it. It 
is this: Draw your note for two thousand dollars at sixty days, 
and get it discounted at Page, Bacon & Co. 's bank. " 

" In the first place, Captain, they would not discount my note, 
unindorsed; and, in the next place, I could not meet it in sixty 
days, even if they did." 

" Oh, well, as to your last objection, Walter. I will have plenty 
of money by that time; for a five thousand dollar transaction 



576 PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 

I have on hand will be in cash in about forty days from this 
date, and I will lend you the money for a few months. And to 
make you feel at your ease about taking it, I will charge you a 
reasonable interest, though I would in truth rather you accepted 
the use of the money without paying a dollar interest. No; don't 
speak, Walter, until I get through. Now, as to your first objec- 
tion, I will undertake to get a friend of mine, with whom I do a 
large business, to indorse your note. This friend's indorsement 
will get the money for you as fast as it can be counted out." 

" Captain, that would be putting me under too much obliga- 
tion to you. I see no show of very soon repaying you." 

"Oh, there will be no difficulty about that, Walter; I may 
have to call upon you for a favor some time; and I think I see 
one not far in the distance now, that I will call on you for; so 
that will make us even, you know. And when the two thousand 
dollars that Hilton owes you are paid, you can pay your note due 
me. This plan will enable you to live here with your sister for 
the present, and you will soon find something to do, if we are 
not lucky in recovering our money from the thieves." 

This proposition did look well to Walter ; so he told the Cap- 
tain he would take it into consideration, and call upon him early 
in the morning. After the Captain left, Walter explained the 
proposition to Minnie. 

" Well, Walter dear, you know you are the best judge m all 
matters of business. The only objection I see to it, is that I have 
the greatest dislike to putting ourselves under such an obligation 
to Captain Ward. As to meeting the note, why, as you say, the 
money due from Hilton will do that, after four months. And 
then, you know, we can sell the the piano. It is new, and 
pianos are scarce in San Francisco. It was only by a chance 
Brown succeeded in getting it; so it ought to bring us the money 
readily." 

" Yes, dear sister; we will sell it, or anything that is neces- 
sary i but I would rather look around and see what we can do be- 
fore I sell anything, especially your piano. I should think, 
Minnie, that you would now be satisfied that Captain Ward is a 
sincere friend. See how, notwithstanding his own great loss, he 
thinks of us so kindly. I know both you and De Forest have 
had a great prejudice against him." 

"I confess, Walter, that you are right in that; but I now 
begin to hope we were mistaken." 



PIONEER TIMES IX CALirOENL\. 57t 

"Why, Minnie, how can you hesitate about it? Look at his 
generous conduct on this occasion. What could be more off- 
hand and kind ?" 

" Well, Walter, I say I begin to doubt my first impression. 
First impressions are often right, bnt they are sometimes greatly 
in the wrong, too; and I now begin to hope this is one such 
case." 

''Begin to hope, Minnie ? I cannot understand why you do 
not acknowledge at once your first impressions, in this case, 
positively wrong." 

" Walter, I am satisfied to take your view of this matter as the 
correct one, because the facts before us compel me to do so. 
Let that satisfy you, dear Walter." 

"Well, that is all right, dear Minnie; and when James De 
Forest comes, he will be surprised to find how mistaken his 
judgment was in this case." 

Just as they had come to this compromise, the bell rang, and 
another furniture bill was handed in, with the same message that 
accompanied the others. 

Early the next morning, Walter was at the Oriental Hotel. 
Ward received him most cordially. He drew from his desk a 
blank note, such as was used by the bank of Page, Bacon & Co., 
and filled it ujp nicely for two thousand dollars at sixty days. 
Walter signed it. Then Ward told him to remain where he was 
while he went to get it indorsed by his friend. In an hour he 
returned, and as he entered the room he said : 

" Well, did the young man bring the note ?" 

" No, Captain; I have seen no one since." 

" Oh, well," said the Captain, " he will be here in a few min- 
utes. When I went out that time I was called off, and I gave 
the note to a young friend of mine to take to Macoudray & Co. 
and request in my name to have that firm indorse it for me; and 
I told him as soon as indorsed to bring it to you." 

As Ward spoke, a not very prepossessing young man walked 
in, with the note in his hand. 

" Oh, I got here before you," said Wai'd, addressing the 
young man. " Well, did the old Captain indorse it?" 

" Mr. Otis did, sir," said the young man, as he handed the note 
to Ward, now indorsed " Macondray & Co." " When I got there, 
the Captain was alone, and he said I would have to wait for 
Mr. Otis, as he never attended to that sort of business. That was 
what delayed me." 
37 



5^8 PIONEEE TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 

'•' Oh, well, that is all right. You can go, Henry, as I have 
some business with my friend here." 

Then^ turning to Walter, Ward contixiued : 

" Are you acquainted at the hank, Wagner ?" 

" Not in the least." 

" Well, you will have to get some one well acquainted there to 
introduce you." 

" Well, I know John A. McGlynn. I once worked for him. I 
met him yesterday, and he recollected me, and was very friendly, 
lam also well acquainted with the firm of Allen, Wheeler & Co." 

Ward thought a moment, and then said : 

" Oh, it is not necessary for you to go hunting up any one. 
Let us walk up towards the bank, and I will strike some one just 
there, who will introduce you on my say so. I would do it my- 
self, but I have heretofore done my business with Burgoyne & 
Co., and am not acquainted with the people at Page, Bacon & 
Co.'s." 

So, lighting their cigars, Walter and Ward walked up to Mont- 
gomery street, and stood talking at the corner of California and 
Montgomery. In a few minutes Michael Reese came along, and, 
just as he turned to enter the bank. Ward stopped him, saying : 

" Please let me ask 3'ou a favor, Mr. Reese.' 

IVIichael looked a little cautious, not knowing what was nest 
coming, and there was a sort of a nervous twitching near his 
pocket, as if he feared a break was going to be made in that di- 
rection, in some way he did not comprehend. However, as soon 
as he understood that that was not Ward's intention, an expres- 
sion of relief and almost pleasure spread over Michael's great, 
big, always sorrowful-looking, fat face, and Ward went on : 

" I just want you, Mr. Reese, to recognize my friend, IVIr. 
Wagner, here, in the bank, as he has a little business to do with 
them." 

" With pleasure," said Michael; and he walked in with Wal- 
ter, and introduced him in an off-hand, decided way, as though 
he was an old acquaintance, and then went into the company's 
private office to attend to his own business. 

The note was examined, found all right, and the money was 
handed out without hesitation to Walter, who immediately left to 
pay up his furniture bills, which he did that afternoon, and 
found that he had just two hundred dollars left. This put him, 
for the present, quite at his ease, and he began to plan and make 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 679 

inquiries for an opening where he could make a new beginning. 
He had a long talk with Mr. McGlynn, Edmund Allen and others; 
but a start was not to be made in a day, when one had no money 
to help him. So nearly three weeks passed, without much pro- 
gress being made in the way of making a permanent new start. 
Two or three openings did appear, but Ward and Brown always 
persuaded Walter to wait a little longer, pretending that they 
had got on the track of the lost gold-dust, and were* in hopes of 
soon recovering it 

Minnie had been to see her old friend, Mrs . Allen, and was 
by her introduced to two or three families, who had daughters 
anxious to take music lessons. So Minnie at once commenced 
to teach music, and found pupils enough to fill her spare hours. 
As she had her own piano, the scholars came to her cottage, and 
her time passed pleasantly, as well as profitably. She had one 
serious annoyance, that sometimes was almost intolerable to her. 
It was Captain AVard's constant and devoted attentions. When 
polite to him, he seemed to grow wild with excitement, and ovei'- 
whelming in his devotions to her. He brought her all sorts of 
little presents. She did not want to take them; but yet they 
were too trifling to refuse. When she was decidedly cold and 
reiDclling in her manner, his countenance would often become 
frightfully dark; so that, in actual fear, she would again smile, 
and again he would grow fierce in his devotion. Thus three 
weeks passed, and it was now the first week in May. 



CHAPTER XIX. 



MORE TROUBLE FOR AY ALTER — jn>rXIE S REQUEST. 

When "Walter walked off from the bank with the money to 
pay his furniture debts, Ward looked after him with a grim 
smile, as he muttered to himself: 

" He little thinks that he is now a forger in the eyes of the 
law, .ind that at any moment I can show him the door of San 
Quentin, if he refuses any request I make of him. Oh, yes; my 
work is as good as done! I have him now where I want him! I 
wonder what would old Captain Macondray, or that sharp young 
Jim Otis think if they were to see that note discounted to-day, 
with their indorsement on it ? But it is an excellent imitation 
of their handwriting; I am proud of the way I executed it. 
Yes; my old ability in that line has not left me. If Jim Otis 
ever sees it, he will, at first, believe he must have written it him- 
self; but he never will see it if Walter does as I order him to do. 
Yes, order him; I have him now where I can order him, but I 
will take things cool; I will be as devoted to Minnie as any 
lover should be. I will not press things too fast at first. I will 
make her trifling presents, and act the cool, moderate lover; 
that is the way to take her sort. Then if she scorns me" — here 
his brow knit to a heavy frown, and his eyes shone with a dark 
fire, as he continued, in a low, menacing tone: " I will just ex- 
plain to her her brother's true position. Oh, that will settle mat- 
ters ; for to save him from disgrace, I believe she would walk 
into the infernal regions with any one, and she will lose nothing 
by taking me; for, personally, I am a much handsomer man than 
this De Forest." 

Ward had now reached the Oriental, and found Brown wait- 
ing for him. 

" Well, Brown," said he ; " all went off first-rate. The note 
is in the bank ; he has taken the money. I have him now where 
I want him." 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 581 

'• Well, Captain, how soon will you open on them, and bring 
things to a conclusion? Do not wait too long, for I tell you these 
Yankee Californians can overcome any difficulty, and this fellow 
"Wagner is one of them, sure. The first thing you know will be 
that he has some lucrative speculation on hand, and that he has 
contrived to get the money to pay that note." 

" I grant you. Brown, that if you and I were asleep, that 
might be so. No ; we must watch to prevent his getting into 
any such good luck. We can prevent it by throwing out hints, 
in a private way, to damage his character; but in doing so we 
must be careful to whom we talk of him, for a discovery that 
either you or I spoke of him slightingly would be ruinous. It 
will not do for me to rush matters with my intended. No; 1 
must try to win the girl by soft means, so that she will find it 
easier to save her brother by taking me when the time comes." 

" Well, how long are you going to fool around here?" said 
Brown, in a dissatisfied tone of voice. 

" Well, I will promise you to bring things to a conclusion by 
the first week in May." 

" All right, Captain ; I will hold you to your word." 

In about two weeks after this conversation, Brown strolled one 
morning into Ward's room, and, as he threw himself into a chair. 
he said : 

"Well, Captain, how do 3'ou come on in love matters? Are 
you keeping Lizzie quiet, and are you winning your way all right 
with Miss Wagner ?" 

"As to Lizzie," said Ward, laughing, " she is all right. No 
trouble in that quarter, as I often told you before, though Miss 
Scott had the impudence to tell me, the last day I called there, 
that she ' really thought it was time for me to save Miss Lawson 
from remark by at once fulfilling my engagement to her.' I un- 
derstood the old maid, but I did not pretend to. She wanted to 
impress me as to the highly respectable character of her house. 
Oh, yes; I understood her perfectly, but I gave her no satisfac- 
tion, and gave my usual excuse to Lizzie herself for not bring- 
ing the parson." And here Ward laughed again, and then went 
on : •' As to Miss Wagner, of whom you inquire, I can not say 
I get on very satisfactorily. She is making more money than I 
like at teaching music, and is very inde^Dendent all at once, as 
her brother would be, too, if I had not balked some of his plans. 
Sometimes Minnie is in one mood, sometimes in another. I Avill 



582 PIONEEK TIMES IN CAIilFORNIA. 

not fool, as you call it, much longer with her. I have deter- 
mined to have her next week, either with her consent or without 
it. I do not now care much which. " 

The last part of this sj)eech was made in the bitterest tone of 
voice, and with a dark, fierce look. Brown did not care to pur- 
sue the conversation any further ; so rising, he said : 

" Well, I v>'ill hold everything about the Blue Bell in perfect 
readiness for sea." 

" All right, Brown ; I will give you one day's notice." 

On the morning following this conversation between the con- 
federates, as Walter arose from the breakfast table, the bell rang, 
and he was handed a note. It was from Ward, and ran in this 
way : 

My dear Fkiend : I want to see you at once. I bave made a painful dis- 
covery, which you should at once know of. Come as soon as you can to my 
room at the Oriental, but do not let Miss Minnie know that I have sent 
for you, as we must keep the painful discovery from her. Your sincere 
friend, Wakd. 

Minnie's eyes were on Walter while he read the note, and she 
saw that he looked sui-prised and troubled; but she waited in 
silence for him to speak. Walter read the note over a second 
time. Then, turning to Minnie and handing it to her, said: 

" I wonder what in the world that can mean! He says not to 
mention the matter to you, Minnie; but Captain Ward does not 
know that you are my chief of counsel — my first lieutenant, with- 
out whom the ship, in the first place, would never have put to 
sea, and in the nest jDlace, without whom it would have gone 
ashore after it was at sea." 

Minnie was too anxious as to the contents of the note to notice 
Walter's compliments. She glanced over it quickly; then did 
as Walter had done — read it slowly over again. Looking up 
with the same sort of surprise on her countenance, she said: 

" I cannot imagine, Walter, but I suppose it must be that they 
have discovered something that shows the impossibility of your 
ever getting back a dollar of the stolen money." 

" Yes, Minnie; that must be what it means. But that does 
not bother me much, for I had but very little hope left about 
that money." 

" Why, the fact is, I am glad the matter is at an end, Walter, 
for the hope was a sort of drawback to you. So go and see what 
it is, and come and tell me." 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORMA. 583 

"Walter at once left for the Oriental Hotel, and Minnie, feeling 
sure that they anticipated correctly what the trouble was, waited 
without much anxiety for Walter's return. In an hoar he came, 
but he was pale and hag-gard-looking. His step^as he ap- 
proached the house, was awkward and unsteady, Minnie saw 
ail this from the window, and, springing to the door, threw it 
open, seized Walter's arm, and, looking up into his face with a 
countenance as pale as his own, but calm, said: 

" Speak, darling Walter, speak ! And, whatever it is you have 
to tell, try and not forget that God is right here by us, and will 
guard us !" 

" Minnie," said "Walter; " the news is surely bad, but, as j^ou 
say, God can guard us, and to Him alone can we turn." 

" Go on, darling "Walter ! Courage has already come to me 
to listen." 

"While speaking, they had entered the parlor, and sat together 
on the sofa. Minnie's eyes were fixed on "Walter's face, as she 
listened to what he told her. He explained in as few words as 
possible, that "Ward had last night discovered that the indorse- 
ment of Macondray & Co., on the note Walter had discounted 
in the bank, was a forgery. 

Ward, he said, had hai^pened to call at Macondray & Co.'s, 
on some business, and was surjorised when Mr. Otis began to ex- 
plain to him why it was that he could not comply with his request 
the other day, and indorse that note he had sent them for in- 
dorsement. Ward said he saw at once that something must be 
wrong, but did not let Mr. Otis observe this, but returned home, 
and, with Mr. Brown's assistance, hunted up the young man who 
took the note to Macondray & Co., and was astonished when the 
fellow acknowledged that the old Captain himself and Mr. Otis 
had both refused to indorse the note, and that it was he himself 
who had written the indorsement. The young fellow's onl}'- ex- 
cuse for this act of villainy was that he wanted to borrow 
a twenty from Ward, and feared Macondray & Co.'s refusal would 
put him in such bad humor, that he would not lend the money. 
Walter now continued : 

" Of course the way would be for me to take this note up at 
once and destroy it; but where is the money to do it with ? 
Ward has not got it. Brown has not a dollar, and of course I 
have not." 

As Walter spoke, he sank back, x^ale and irresolute, and then 
added in a low voice : 



584 PIOXEER TIMES IS CALIFOKNIA. 

" Oil, Minnie, I could have faced anything but this danger of 
disgrace! Can j-ou see any way of escape, Minnie ?" 

Minnie, while Walter was speaking, was sitting erect; her 
eyes were all bright; she was, j)erhaps, j^ale, but there was a 
tinge of red in her cheeks. As "Walter addressed these words to 
her, she pushed back her clustering hair with both hands from 
her temples; then arose to her feet, and, turning towai'ds him, 
she stood her full height, and, letting one hand rest on his 
shoulder, she said, evidently under great excitement, but per- 
fectly calm, while a smile of confidence and courage lit up for a 
moment her beautiful face: 

" See a way out of it, Walter ? I may not at this moment see 
the way; but, my brother, we both know in our hearts that our 
name is untarnished. God knows it, too; and do not, Walter, 
for one moment, doubt that He, in His goodness and mercy, will 
show us the way out. This false position you have fallen into, 
without its being your fault, undoubtedly gives us a great diffi- 
culty to overcome; but, Walter, we are not the children of afflu- 
ence, ease aud luxury. No; from our earliest childhood we 
have had to battle for every inch of our way in the world. Shall 
we now falter when the greatest difficulty of our lives is before 
us? No, no! We will not falter; we will do our best, and jDut 
our unwavering trust in that God who has never failed us ! It 
may be His holy will that our worldly goods be taken from us, 
perhaps, for our good, but do not doubt, my darling Walter, 
that, :«a His watchful care of us, if we do our part He Avill guard 
our name from the designs of wicked men ! Our poor father 
was struck down to a bed of painful sickness; but he was hon- 
ored by all who knew him to the last, for his unsullied good 
name. Our dear mother was once a stranger in the great city 
of New York; avoided and mistrusted on account of her reli- 
gious faith; but God, from among those who did not believe as 
she believed, raised up to her as loving and true a protector as 
ever stood by wife. When I myself was threatened, God raised 
up a kind and generous deliverer, from among the very men who 
sought my destruction. No, my dear brother; we will ask of God 
nothing on earth but the continuance to us of our untarnished 
name, that with it we may serve Him with brighter honor. And, 
though the struggle grow ever so dark around us, let us not 
dare to doubt the result, for to doubt would be ingratitude to 
God. Yes, Walter, we are both Calif ornians in heart and soul. 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 585 

and where is the Calif ornian that, in danger or in trouble, will 
be a coward? No; they do not seek trouble and difficulties, but 
when such come it is their glory to overcome and triumph over 
them." 

As Minnie spoke, Walter's expression of countenance entirely 
changed. It no longer expressed doubt and fear, but resumed 
its wonted bold, confident look, and, grasping Minnie's hand, 
he kissed it, and exclaimed : 

" Oh, Minnie, you have brought me to myself! We have an 
unsullied name, and, with God's help, we will save it. I no 
longer doubt, for, as you say, the same good and merciful Being 
who guarded our darling parents in all their life-long struggle, 
and saved you on that terrible night, will not now desert you in 
this danger; nor me either, I trust." 

" Walter, dear, it is easy to speak brave words; but remember, 
we will have to follow them with brave actions; and on you all 
depends, not on me." 

As Minnie spoke, she raised one hand to her forehead and let 
her eyes drop on the floor, as if in thought. 

"Walter, have you any, the least, suspicion of Captain 
Ward's truth and honesty in this matter ?" 

Walter started and looked surprised, as he said, in a halt an- 
noyed tone: "Minnie dear, you, De Forest and Hilton have 
never liked Ward from the first, and that is the only reason why 
such thoughts come into your head. Of course I have not the 
least doubt of him. No; I have no more doubt of him than I 
have of myself." 

" Well, Walter dear, I do not like to annoy you by seeming to 
doubt any one you have such an undoubted confidence in; but 
recollect, this j)osition of ours is no child's play. We must look 
at every point in it carefully; and the fact that two such clear- 
sighted men as Hilton and De Forest both did doubt Ward's 
honesty of intention makes it no more than prudent of us to 
take their opinions into consideration. And, Walter, I will now 
tell you that lately I find myself thinking of the strange circum- 
stances of that robbery, and the way they got you to keep it a 
secret. And, somehow, a frightful idea that they themselves 
were the robbers comes forcibly to my mind." 

Walter, who had been walking up and down the room, now 
stopped short, saying: 

"Why, Minnie, you astonish me! What on earth could be 



586 PIONEER TIMES IX CALIFORNIA. 



the motive for such an act ? Were we not going- into business 
together, and was not everything arranged as they wished?" 

" Well, Walter, I know all that; but the more I think of it 
the more the conviction forces itself on me. I cannot shake it 
off, and all I want of you, Walter, is that in all your intercourse 
with these men, for the next few days, you will keep my view of 
the matter before your eyes. That will put you on your guard; 
for, if I am right, our position is a terrible one, for they will pre- 
vent you, if possible, from raising the money to take up that 
note. If they are honest, we can, in some way, get the money; 
but if they are not, it will be mighty hard; but yet we will do it 
in some way." 

" Well, Minnie, I will do as you say; but it pains me to har- 
bor a doubt of two such friends as I have always found Ward 
and Brown to be." 

"I do not want you, Walter, to harbor a doubt ; but just to 
recollect that I do harbor a doubt, and that I cannot for the life 
of me shake it off. Whon they are talking to you, take my view 
as well as your own into consideration. Promise me that, Wal- 
ter, and I am satisfied." 

" Well, dear Minnie, I promise ; so that is agreed on. Now, 
the next consideration is, what shall be our first move to get the 
money ? All I have in this world is this furniture and those two 
Hilton notes, which draw no interest, and have so long to run 
yet, that here in California they would be counted as almost 
worthless ; for four months are four years here with us in Cali- 
fornia." 

" Where are those notes, Walter?" 

"Oh, they are all right. The robbers did not look on them as 
of any value, so they left them where they were in Ward's safe." 
"And is that where they are now?" said Minnie, looking 
alarmed. 

" Yes, of course, Minnie." 

Well, Walter dear, go at once and possess yourself of the two 
notes, and if Ward undertakes to make excuses and put you off, 
I want you to promise me that nothing he does or says will pre- 
vent you getting the notes." 

" Why, Minnie, of course I will get the notes." 
" No, no, Walter ; but promise me that you will bring them 
here this very evening, even if you had to quarrel with Ward 



1 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFOENIA. 587 

and Brown both to get tliein. I tell you, Walter, they will try 
to prevent your taking them; so promise me." 

" Well, Minnie, you are a great girl," said Walter, half laugh- 
ing ; " so I suppose I must promise you again, and I do ; so now 
be satisfied." 

" Well, I am satisfied, dear Walter; and now, while you are 
away, I will think and think, and tell 3'ou what comes into my 
head when you come back. " 



CHAPTER XX, 



ABRIVAL OF JAMES DE FOREST — MINNIE S GENEEOSITy. 

After Walter had left to get the notes from "Ward, Minnie re- 
tired to her bed-room, and dropped on her knees near her bed. 
Leaning forward, she covered her face with her hands, and then 
her whole inmost thoughts were with God. Oh, yes ; prepare, 
Minnie, for another trial for you is at hand that will test yoiu* 
power of will and your self-control to the utmost, and bring an 
ache of sympathy to jonx heart that it never felt before. For 
ten minutes Minnie remained without a perceptible movement. 
Then, suddenly, she starts to her feet, her hands clasped to- 
gether, her head bent forward, in a listening attitude; for she 
has heard a step on the front porch that has made her heart leap 
to her throat so as to almost choke her. She is now pale as death, 
as she heard her name pronounced by a manly, firm voice, saying 
to Jane, who opened the door : 

" Is Miss Minnie "Wagner at home ?" 

Yes; her heart had told her truly it was he. She could not 
move. The door opened, and Jane said: 

"Miss Minnie; a gentleman, who gives his name as Mr. De 
Forest, is in the sitting-room to see you." 

Minnie made no answer, but as the girl left she again dropped 
on her knees, and again for a moment rested her face in her 
hands, while her frame trembled and shrank together, as if en- 
during or struggling against some inward pain. Then relief 
seemed to come, and, drawing a long breath, she wiped away 
•with her handkerchief the cold perspiration from her forehead, 
and, rising to her feet, said, half -aloud: " There, I can go 
through it now." 

"Without even a glance at her mirror, she walks into the sit- 
ting-room. James heard her step, and, his face beaming with 
smiles and joyous excitement, advanced to meet her. 

" Oh, James, I am so glad to see you," she said, taking his 
outstretched hand. " How are you ?" 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 



589 



" I am first-rate, Minnie." 

He stopped, he started a little, and, looking into her face 
-while he still retained her had in his, he added: 

"But, dear Minnie, you do not look well, and your hand is 
so cold. Ai-e you sick, or what is the matter, Minnie ?" 

" My health is perfectly good, James, and I am only a little 
out of sorts this morning; but don^c mind that. When did 
you get here ?" 

James, now feeling half-alarmed, he could not tell why ex- 
actly, said: 

" I got here, Minnie, about two hours ago, and, as fast as I 
could, put myself in a fit rig, found this cottage of yours and 
came to see you." 

" Oh, that Was so good of you, James, to come so soon." 

De Forest looked puzzled, and said: 

"No, Minnie; it was not good of me, for I could not stay 
away if I tried ever so hard." 

Here Minnie tried to laugh, but her laugh was a failure, and 
evidently forced, and did not sound the least like her natural 
sweet, musical laugh. 

" Have you seen Walter, James?" 

" No," said De Forest; " I have not, Minnie." 

De Forest's manner now grew serious in spite of himself, and, 
turning towards Minnie, he looked her full in the face, endeavor- 
ing, if possible, to read its meaning, while he asked two or three 
common-place questions, such as how she liked living in San 
Francisco, and if she had made many new acquaintances in the 
city. IVIiunie answered all his questions nicely, and fully, but De 
Forest saw that her manner had a quiet, subdued sadness about 
it, and when she spoke his name, he thought she somehow 
seemed to linger on it, with a j^eculiar, sweet intonation. He 
could no longer hold out. He stood up, and walked over and 
took a chair close to hers; then said, in a voice of deep feeling : 

'* Minnie, something is the matter with you. Can you tell me 
what it is?" 

Minnie did not speak; she seemed to be making a desperate 
efibrt for command over herself. 

" Oh, Minnie, speak ! In mercy tell me!" 

Minnie recovered her quiet manner, and said : 

" James, I cannot if I would, deceive you. Walter and Ihave 
a serious trouble to overcome, which I cannot disclose just now to 



590 PIOXEER TIjMES in CALIFORNIA. ■, 

any one on earth. It will, I trust in God, pass away; but until the 
matter is decided, I must ask you to be generous enough not to 
ask me to explain further.'" 

" Not to explain to me ! Minnie, who have loved you as a child, 
a girl and a woman, with unwavering fidelity! If some cloud, 
Minnie, has fallen on your path, will you not allow me to stand 
by your side and share it with you ? I care not how heavy or 
how dark it is, if I am sharing it with you, and perhaps making 
it lighter to you." 

While De Forest ?poke, Minnie's eyes, full of the saddest 
light, were on his face, and, with a look and tone of earnest en- 
treaty, she said : 

" Oh, James, I cannot accede to your request, for to do so would 
lower mj'self in my own estimation, and if I did that, I would 
not be the girl that James De Forest loved in his boyhood and 
his manhood. No, James; I will die before I let myself do one 
act that in my own judgment would make me less worthy of the 
love you have offered to shield my path through life with. Even if 
I am forced to turn that love away, I will never be unworthy 
of it." 

" Forced to turn it away ! Oh, my God, Minnie, what can all 
this mean ? I came here to claim you for my bride. I have had 
"Walter's consent long ago, and when I parted with you last, you 
gave me to understand in your own sweet way that you loved me. 
Oh, Minnie, have I done anything to forfeit that love, which is 
life itself to me ? Oh, yes, and more than life a thousand times; 
because if you discard me, every day of the future of this life is 
intolerably dark to me." 

Minnie preserved her calm, quiet demeanor, but looked in- 
tensely miserable, as she said : 

" Done anything, James, to forfeit my love ! No, James; you 
have done nothing to forfeit it, and it grieves me to pain you, as 
I am now obliged to do. Your name and your honor are un- 
tarnished, and you are entitle J to a partner through life with as 
fair a name as your own." 

Minnie stopped speaking, seemingly overpowered with her feel- 
ings, and De Forest saw, as he looked in her face, an expression 
of almost agony, and that she was evidently struggling against 
some powerful emotion of her heart. He was startled, and, 
hardly knowing how to act, he took her hand in his. It was cold 
as ice, and in a low, trembling, sad voice, he said : 

' ' Minnie, is there not some strange infatuation about all this ? 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALITOKNIA.. 591 

Are you not, perhaps, making us both miserable under a misap- 
prehension ? But I will not urge you to answer, Minnie. I do 
not want to act selfishly, and I will now, if it is necessary to 
your happiness, forego any further questions. But do not blame 
me for wishing to share with you this trouble, whatever it may 
bej but I fear I am giving you pain, Minnie; so tell me what 
you want me to do, and I will obey without asking another ques- 
tion." 

Minnie sat up erect, and, in a clear, steady voice, said : 

"James, you are not acting selfishly; you are the same gen- 
erous man to me to-day that you were long, long ago, as a boy, 
when we were children together; and I am grieved to be obliged 
to trespass on your generosity by asking you to do what I want 
you to do now." 

'•' Speak, Minnie, speak; what you say shall be law to me." 

" I will ask you, James, to defer this subject for one month, 
leaving each of us perfectly free." 

" I will so defer it, and leave you perfectly free, Minnie; will 
not that do ?" 

" No, no, James; that is not the way I want it to be." And 
Minnie was now paler than ever, and her lips quivered as she 
spoke. 

" Well, Minnie, then it shall be as you say; one month, and 
you will accept my love, or fully explain to me why you cannot 
do so ?" 

" Yes, James; that is the promise between us." 

" Well, I am satisfied, Minnie; and now I will return to 
Oregon by the steamer that leaves here early in the morning; 
for, oh, Minnie, I could not endure to stay here under these cir- 
cumstances." 

" Forgive me, James, for the pain I give you; but you will yet 
understand me." 

" You are freely forgiven; and forgive me, dear Minnie, for 
the pain I gave you." And, obeying a sudden impulse, De Forest 
snatched her up in his arms and kissed her, and v.hispered: 
" God bless you, and keep you safe, Minnie!" And in a moment 
more James De Forest was hurrying down Kearny street towards 
the hotel. 

As De Forest disappeared, Minnie went quickly to her room, 
closed the door, and, throwing herself into a chair, gave way to 
a fit of uncontrolled weeping. 

" Oh!" she exclaimed, while interrupted by choking sobs, 



592 PIOKEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 

" how miserable I have made him! But what could I do ? If I 
had disclosed our trouble to him, it would be the same as asking 
him to helj) Walter out of it with his money, and that would kill 
poor Walter; for he could never brook the idea that his name 
should be saved from dishonor by the man to whom he was about 
to give his sister for a wife. Oh, no; if James De Forest was 
only seeking to be a friend, and nothing more, I would have 
told him all, and be glad to have him assist us; but, as it was, I 
could not do that. No; before ever I consent to be his bride, 
our name must be as unsullied as his own, and he must have 
nothing to do with making it so. It is unsullied, I know, and 
God will, in his goodness, enable us to make that manifest. 
Then I will be James' equal, and he Avill forgive when he hears 
my explanation, because any other course would be unworthy of 
such a wife as he deserves. Well, just as soon as we get things 
all right, I will write to him." 

The night is closing in on this eventful day. Jane has just 
rapped at Minnie's door, to tell her that tea is all ready to bring 
in. 

" Hold it back a little, Jane, until my brother comes back," 
Minnie answers; and then she wipes away all traces of her tears, 
as far as it was jDOSsible, and returns to the sitting-room. She 
had not long to wait, for Walter's step was on the porch just as 
she had thrown herself on the sofa. 

" Well, dear Walter," she exclaims, " did you get the notes?" 

"Yes, Minnie, I did; but I fear I hurt the feelings of both 
our friends. Ward and Brown; and if it had not been for the 
promise I made you, I certainly should not have insisted on get- 
ting the notes to-night." 

" Oh, then, they did make excuses, did they ?" exclaimed Min- 
nie, in an excited voice. " Oh, how glad I am that you got the 
notes!" 

" Why, Minnie, you should not be so suspicious of friends." 

" Walter, did you do as I asked you to do while you were 
talking to these men? Did you keep my suspicions in your 
thoughts ?" 

" Yes, Minnie; and I did not notice anything to be suspicious 
about. The only thing you were right in was in regard to the 
notes." 

" Well, how was it about the notes? Tell me every word that 
passed about the notes, dear Walter." 



tlONEER l^IMES IN CALIFOKNIA. 593 

" Well, I went to Ward's room, and found Brown there, and 
they were both as cordial as it was possible; and Ward told me 
that they were just planning how to helj? me to raise the money 
to take up the note. ' But,' said Ward, ' it is impossible to do it, 
except I can get my note taken in its place.' I said, ' Would 
not those Hilton notes heljD in some way ?' ' Oh, no,' said he, 
' a note of a country merchant at three or four months, drawing 
no interest, could give no sort of help in this market.' While 
he spoke he opened his safe and continued, ' I have a city bond 
here for a thousand dollars that, perhaps, could be used to help;' 
and he took a bundle of papers out of the safe to look for it* 
While he was turning the papers over, I saw the Hilton notes, 
and I took them np, and, oj)euing my pocket-book, I began to 
place them in it. ' Oh,' said the Captain, ' leave those notes 
here. They will be safer with me, and I will take them and this 
bond, to-morrow, and I am almost sure I can get enough of 
money with them to take up that note.' This surprised me, as 
it was only a moment before he had said that the notes were 
worth nothing in this market, and I would have at once left 
them but for my promise to you; so I said, ' I have promised to 
show these notes to a friend this evening, so I will have to 
take them home.' * Oh, never mind your promise,' said 
Ward ; ' business is business ; so leave the notes here.' 
' Oh, I must keep my promise. Captain,' said I. Then he looked 
very angry, more so than I ever saw him, and said : ' Oh, well, 
Wagner, if you are going to take this matter in your own 
hands, of course you do not want friends to help you.' ' Of 
course I do want friends to help me. Captain, out of a scrape 
they helped me to get into.' ' Mr. Wagner, do you suppose that 
I had any other motive than the most disinterested friendship 
when I sent that unfortunate note to Macondray & Co. for their 
indorsement?' ' Of course not, Captain,' said I ; ' but, never- 
theless, if you had not given it to that villainous boy to take 
there, all this trouble would never have happened.' ' Well, that 
is the reason I am so anxious to help you out ; so leave those 
notes, and I will guarantee I can get the money for you to-mor- 
row.' ' But I told you, Captain, that I cannot leave the notes, 
because I have promised to show them to a friend; and, of course, 
I will keep my px-omise. ' ' Oh, well, let us say no more about the 
matter. I will not quarrel with you, Wagner, about a thing that 

does not concern me in the least, onlv so far as I can serve you.' 
38 



694 PIONEER TIMES IN CALIPOENIA. 

' Thank you, Captain/ said I, as I arose and left the room. 
Brown stood up at the same time, and walked down stairs with 
me. As we reached the street, he said : ' Wagner, if I were 
you, I would go back and leave those notes with the Cap- 
tain. I think you hurt his feelings in the way you took them out 
of his hand.' ' Why, Brown,' said T, ' it is impossible for ine 
to leave them, for I must keep my promise.' ' Oh, do as you 
like,' said he; 'it is none of my business.' That was about all 
that passed." 

" Walter, this conduct of these men is only to be accounted 
for on my theory, that Ward and Brown are leagued against us 
for some purpose." 

" But Minnie, what possible pui'pose can they have in view?" 

'• Well, I cannot exactl}^ say now; but, Walter, you cannot be 
too much on your guard; for, recollect there is more than life at 
stake, and you see that, so far, I was correct, for I told you that 
they would make difficulties about surrendering those notes." 

" Well, Minnie, I confess I am puzzled, and I acknowledge 
that things do look as if you must be right. Yet I cannot bring 
myself fully to believe so, but it puts me much more on my 
guard." 

" That is all I want, dear Walter. Let us now take our tea, 
for it has been ready a long time; and after tea I have something 
to tell you." 

As Minnie spoke, she took Walter's arm, and they went into the 
dining-room and sat down, and talked cheerfully while they dis- 
posed of their evening meal. Minnie's manner was not what you 
would call excited, but was such as a person has, who is hard 
pressed with business, and who eats and sleeps as a matter of 
duty, to enable him to ph^'sically endure what he is called 
on to go through. This evening she seemed to sit higher and 
more erect than Walter had ever seen her. Her voice was as 
sweet as ever, but it was bold and decisive in its intonation. 
Walter remarked all this, and said to himself : 

"Yes; she has been planning some decisive action for to-mor- 
row; I know her manner so well. I suppose she will tell me 
after supper." 

Tea over, they retired to the little sitting-room. 

" Come, Walter," Minnie said, " and sit down near me on the 
sofa, and let me rest my head on your shoulder, while I tell you 
what I want to tell you." 



PIONEER TialES IN CALIFORNIA. 595 

" Yes, dear sister Minnie, come and sit just as you say, and 
tell me all you want to tell me, for you have bad an excited 
day of it." 

As Walter spoke, be took bis seat on the sofa, and Minnie sat 
close to bim, bolding the arm next to her with both her hands, 
and laying her bead against bis shoulder, her eyes looked down- 
wards as she said, in a soft, low tone: 

" James De Forest was here; did you know it ?" 

"Why, no, Minnie; is it possible; and where is be gone ? Why 
did be not wait to see me ?" 

Minnie did not change her position, but said, in a yet lower 
voice: 

' ' He is going back again to Oregon in the morning, and will 
not be here again before he leaves." 

" Not be here again, Minnie ? And why so, for mercy sake ?" 

Minnie, for a moment, was silent, and Walter felt her strug- 
gling to overcome some emotion; then, in the same low voice, 
and yet in the same jDOsition, but that Walter felt her bands 
grasp his arm yet closer, she said: 

" Walter, James said he had your consent to talk to me of bis 
views of the future, you know." 

" Yes, Minnie, darling, he bad my full consent; and he told 
me he bad a half-sort of an understanding with you that be 
was to propose matters to you in relation to his and your future 
on his visit to us this May. Was that your understanding ?" 

" Yes, that was our understanding, Walter dear," said Minnie, 
in the same subdued voice. 

" And has he left without doing so, Minnie ?" said Walter, in 
an angry tone, evidently mistaking the cause of Minnie's de- 
jected manner. 

" No, no, dear Walter; be begged and implored of me to share 
with bim all he bad in the world, and was terribly miserable 
when I bad to turn him away." 

The last words were spoken so low that Walter could only just 
hear them, and Minnie trembled with agitation. 

"Had to turn him away? Minnie, you astonish me, for I 
thought he was just the sort of man you would be sure to admire, 
and value, and be has been our friend from childhood, you know." 

" Oh, yes, dear Walter; so I do, but with this danger hanging 
over our good name, how could I consent to listen to him until 
that danger was past ?" 



696 PIONEER TIMES IlJ CALlFORNitA. 

"Walter at once threw his arm around his sister's waist, and, 
stooping, kissed her forehead, saying in a low voice: 

" Now, I understand darling Minnie, your view of your duty 
under the circumstances, and I suppose you could give him no ex- 
planation of your refusal to listen to him, and that he went ofi 
considering himself rejected for good. Oh, darling sister, how 
sorry I am for you both!" 

" I am sorry for poor James, Walter; but he was so generous 
that he said he would come for a final answer in one month." 

" Oh, then he will come back for your answer in a month. How 
noble of him ! What reason did you give him for not explaining 
to him what your difficulty was ?" 

" I told him I could give him none, and he forebore to ask me 
further." 

" Dear Minnie, he is indeed generous and truly noble; and 
God grant that we may be able when he comes back to explain 
all to his full satisfaction." 

" Then, dear Walter, you approve of all I did, and think I 
could not have done otherwise ? for I have kept thinking and 
thinking of poor James. He looked so sorrowful and hurt, 
when I told him it was impossible for me to exj)lain, and it gives 
me comfort to have you think I could not have acted in any 
other way." 

" No, no, dear Minnie; you could not have acted differently, 
no matter what the consequences were. I understand your views 
fully, Minnie, and it is mj^ own. K James De Forest was to 
come forward to-morrow and take up that note, and in that way 
destroy all evidence against me, a lingering doubt might remain 
in his mind of my truth, even against his own will ; and that 
would be intolerable to both of us. No, when my darling Min- 
nie consents to change her name, all shall know that the one she 
lays aside is as bright and untarnished as the one she accepts in 
its place." 

Minnie now sits up, and, wiiDing away tears that had forced 
themselves on her cheek, she turned to her brother, and, pushing 
back his clustering brown hair from his forehead, kissed it, say- 
ing: 

" Oh, Walter, I feel so much better since I have had this un- 
derstanding with you." 

" Well, Minnie, this is a terrible time of trial for you ; but you 
must try and bear up and be the brave little woman you always 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 597 

have been. I am a man, but somehow I seem to draw my 
courage from you; and it was always so, as far back as I can 
recollect. Minnie, can you explain it to me, that when a diffi- 
culty or a trial comes, I look to you for confidence and courage, 
and 3'ou never fail me ? 

" Walter dear, a woman was not given physical strength to 
battle and fight in the world and overcome great physical diffi- 
culties, as men can; but our dear mother always taught me that 
the woman's place was to stand close to the father, husband, or 
brother, in all dangers, and inspire them with moral courage and 
confidence in God, to the utmost of her ability; and that God 
had gifted her with peculiar power to enable her to fulfill this, 
her destiny ; and that a woman who shrank from this duty, or 
failed in this, her part, was just no woman at all. So, dear 
"Walter, if I sometimes have been of some use to you, when you 
were beset by difficulties, I deserve no credit for it; for I but did 
my simple duty, the neglect of which would have been criminal." 

"Oh, how clearly I see that our dear mother was right, Min- 
nie; and yet there are foolish men, and foolish women, too, who 
would, if .they were permitted, drag women away from this holy 
and ' better jpart ' she has been assigned to, and in their pride 
and folly would rush the whole sex into the field of party poli- 
tics, with all its bitter dissensions, often corrupting and degrad- 
ing to the strongest men, whose duty compels them not to flinch 
from the necessary contest, be it ever so fierce, rough, or dis- 
tasteful to them." 

' ' I trust, dear Walter, the number of such misguided persons 
of either sex is very small, and may long continue so." 

*' I heartily join with you in that wish, dear sister; and now, 
to go back to our own immediate business, I was just reminding 
you that it was your time of trial; and I want you to prejDare for 
a disagreeable scene sure to come before you to-morrow.'* 

"Ah!" said Minnie a little startled, sitting up and looking 
into Walter's face: " What is it, dear Walter?" 

" Well, dear Minnie, not to keep you in suspense. Captain 
Ward to-day intimated to mo that he was a suitor for your hand. 
X at once told him that in that matter you were your own mis- 
tress. ' Then,' said he, ' you have no objection to my sj)eak- 
ing to Miss Minnie herself ?' I said, ' None in the world.' So he 
will undoubtedly see you on the subject to-morrow." 

•'Why, Walter, the man cannot have common sense to make 



598 PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 

such a proposal ; for I have in every way rejected his attentions 
in the most marked way!" 

" Well, dear Minnie, you will have to give him an answer he 
cannot misunderstand; and that will end it, of course." 

" Well, Walter, I am glad you told me, because I will prepare 
myself, and I will try not to wound his feelings more than I can 
help." 

Then Minnie ^^I'oposed to Walter that he and she should go to- 
gether and see Father Maginnis, and disclose to him, as a friend, 
their exact position in regard to this note, and tell him of the se- 
curity they could give to raise the two thousand dollars. 

"And," said Minnie, " he will know we are telling him the 
truth, and perhaps he will find some one who has the money 
who will be willing to lend it to you." 

After a moment's reflection, Walter agreed to the jDroposition, 
and the more they discussed it, the more hopes they had of its 
success. So the brother and sister separated that evening; if 
not in happy spirits, yet hopeful, and were both soon resting in 
sweet, refreshing sleep, which they so much needed after the ex- 
citement of the day, and yet more to bring physical strength for 
the more terrible struggle of to-morrow. But let no one fear 
that our little heroine will falter, let the trials impending be ever 
so great ; for she is of the true type of our California f)ioneer 
women, of whom we are proud to think ; for they are the glory 
of California's early history as an American State. 



CHAPTER XXI. 

A NOTE FROM CAPTAIN WARD — "A BOAT AHOyT* 

Walter and Minnie arose early in tlie morning following their 
consultation in regard to the note, as related in the last chapter, 
and Walter started out at daybreak to see De Forest, before he 
left for home. He was only just in time to have a shake-hands, 
and to exchange good wishes, as the steamer shoved off. 

" Tell Minnie," said De Forest, in a whisper, " I will be here 
on the ajDpointed day, if she does not call me sooner, through 
you, Walter." 

" All right, all right, James. God bless you and bring you 
back safe !" 

And now the steamer was dashing out towards the Golden 
Gate. After they had passed out into the open sea, while 
De Forest was walking the quarter-deck, lost in his thoughts of 
Minnie, a sailor came up to him, saying: 

•' Excuse me, sir; is your name De Forest?" 

" Yes ; what do you want with me?" 

" Oh, nothing, sir; but a gentleman gave me this letter and 
told me to give it to you before the steamer should leave the 
wharf ; but I forgot it, sir." 

James took the letter, tore it open, and read in astonishment 
as follows: 

Feiend De Fobest: — I know you are mortified at my having won, in the 
contest between us for the hand of a lovely girl, and I write this to assure 
you that I have no ill-will towards you, and, as you are an old friend of my 
wife, that is to be, I would be very glad if you would stay over just two days, 
and favor us with your company, on the occasion of the interesting ceremony 
which is to unite Miss Minnie Wagner and myself in bliss for life. If Min- 
nie was near me while I write, I know she would join with me in this request. 
Hoping you will remain and favor us, I subscribe myself 

Your obedient servant. 
John Waed. 



600 PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 

As De Forest finished reading this note, he flung it on the 
deck and stamped on it, saying: 

" You are a lying villain ! What you write is false! Yes; as 
false as Satan is himself!" 

Then he threw himself on the gunwale of the steamer, with 
his head resting against the main rigging, while over and over 
he exclaimed: 

" Of course it is false! Of course there is not a word of truth 
in it! No; it is just written to annoy and worry me; but I don't 
mind it in the least, for I know it is false!" 

Then he turned to look where the note yet lay on the deck, 
saying, as he reached for it: 

" Let me see what the vile Avretch does say; I almost forget 
already." 

Then he read it over carefully twice, and, while doing so, 
turned pale, and again red. 

" I do not doubt Minnie. No; I cannot doubt her; but I fear 
some infernal plot against her; something that she has some 
knowledge of, but could not tell me without violating some- 
body's confidence. Oh, why did I not stay in Sun Francisco ? Yet 
the villain expected me to get this note before the steamer left; 
so he does not fear my presence there. Oh, can or could there 
beany truth in it? Great Heavens! it is imjDOSsible! No, no; 
poor Minnie is the victim of some infernal plot! Oh, why am I 
not back in San Francisco ? I will question the fellow who 
handed me the note; he may be in with this villain. Ward. I 
must get it all out of him." 

De Forest now put the letter in his pocket, and went to the 
Captain's ofQce. The Captain invited him in, and, after some 
conversation, the Captain sent for the sailor who had handed 
the note to De Forest. The sailor appeared, and looked fright- 
ened. The Captain, showing him the letter he had given De 
Forest, said: 

' ' I want to know the exact truth about this letter. Where 
did you get it ? who gave it to you ? and what did the person 
say when he gave it ? Nothing but the truth will save you 
from trouble; so out with it !" 

" Captain, I do not know the man who gave me the letter; but 
he paid me five dollars to hand it to this gentleman, and told me 
not to give it until we were outside the heads, but to tell the gen- 
tleman that I had forgotten to give it to him, as I was told to do, 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 601 

before the steamer left tlie wharf. That is the truth, Captain; 
the same as if I was sworn to tell it. I know nothing of what 
is in the letter, and nothing but just as I have told you. And, 
if you wish. Captain, I will give up the five dollars I got for the 
job." 

" No, no," said De Forest; " keep the five dollars; I am satis- 
fied with your story, as you now tell it." 

So the sailor was dismissed, and De Forest, thanking the Cap- 
tain, left to think over the matter under this new light. 

" Ah!" said he, as he paced the quarter-deck, " I now see the 
fellow did not expect or wish me to stay in San Francisco. Oh, 
it must be that there is some infernal plot against Minnie; for, 
as to her ever marrying that fellow, that is out of the question; 
she would die first ; I have not a shadow of a doubt about that. 
Oh, I must get back in some way and somehow! Oh, God will 
save her! But my heart aches. I must get back. Oh, how can 
I do it? Yes, I will see the Captain; for I cannot endure this 
terrible uncertainty." 

So De Forest had another interview with the Captain of the 
steamer, which resulted in the Captain's agreeing to jiut him on 
board the first craft they met bound for San Francisco. Early 
the next morning they fell in with a vessel bound for San Fran- 
cisco. She was the brig May Day, Marshal, master. De Forest 
was soon on board of her, and was politely received by both the 
Captain and his wife, whom he found to be a very agreeable 
lady. De Forest still continued in great anxiety of mind, but 
felt better satisfied, now that his face was turned towards Min- 
nie, who, it appeared to him, was in some great trouble, con- 
tending against some terrible wicked plot of Ward's. 

" Oh !" he would exclaim as he reflected on it, " when I saw 
her in such an agony of mind that night before I left, why did I 
come away? Oh, I fear I was selfish. Poor Minnie ! Poor 
Minnie ! can you ever forgive me ?" 

Then sometimes he would fall into deep thought, and Ward's 
terrible, wolfish eyes would gleam before him as plainly as he 
ever saw them. And then he would fancy he heard Minnie 
scream, and her cry would seem to come over the dark waters to 
him, calling for help, just as he heard her the night he saved her 
from Wild. Then he would leap to his feet and gaze all over the 
waters around him, so fearfully lonesome, and listen and listen, 
as if in fact he expected to hear Minnie's wild call for help to 



602 PIONEEE TIMES IX CALIFORNIA. 

reach liim. The -wind seemed all ahead. The May Day labored 
hard, but made very jioor progress. As every half-day passed, 
De Forest's imagination became more and more excited, and 
fashioned yet more terrible j^ictures to his vision of Minnie's ne- 
cessity for help. 

" Oh, why did I leave ! Oh, why did I leave !" he constantly 
rejoeated, as he tried to overcome the increasing alarm that seemed 
to gather around his heart, in spite of himself. So passed the 
first, second and third days on board the May Day. Night closed 
in, and De Forest w^as in a feverish excitement. He tried to 
argue with himself of the absurdity of his fears and feelings ; 
but he could not command calmness of thought or mind. He 
lay down in his berth to sleep, but his eyes and ears were ner- 
vously sensitive, and, if he but dozed, a frightful vision of Ward 
with Minnie in his power came with such vividness before him, 
that he would start up, sitting erect in his berth, covered with 
cold perspiration, repeating as he wiped it away: 

" Oh, Minnie ! Poor Minnie ! why did I leave you ? why did 
I leave you ? Can you ever forgive me ?" 

Then he would lean his head over the side of his berth, and, 
peering with his eyes wide open through the darkness up the 
cabin hatchway, he would listen and listen, though his common 
sense told him he could hear nothing of her, who now so mys- 
teriously haunted his imagination. As the first ray of the morn- 
ing light appeared, De Forest left his berth, and now as he 
walked the quarter deck, he was yet feverish and almost wild 
with excitement. There was a dense fog on the sea, so that it 
was impossible to see any object twenty rods from the vessel. 
He suddenly stopped in his walk, dropped his head to a listen- 
ing attitude, and, laying his hand on the arm of the Captain, 
who happened to be passing, he exclaimed : 

" Hark ! Captain. Did you hear nothing ? " 

The Captain stopped, and listened also; but could hear noth- 
ing but the dashing of the waves around the brig 

" What do you think you heard ? " asked the Captain. " Not 
breakers, surely; for, by my reckoning — and I know my reckon- 
ing is all right — I am far out at sea, safe from all such dangers." 

" Oh, no. Captain; not breakers; but I thought I heard a loud, 
terrible cry, as if of some one calling for help; and," continued 
De Forest, lowering his voice, " it seemed to me as if a woman's 
voice was there." 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALITOKNIA. 603 

" Oil, it must be imagination, Mr. De Forest; you do not look 
well. You slept badly, for I heard you groan two or three times, 
and my wife says you cried out loudly in your sleep. You had 
better take something to steady your nerves, Mr. De Forest. 
SupjDOse we have a glass of brandy ? I have some that is very 
nice." 

" Oh, thank you. Captain, I am all right; I suppose it was a 
fancy; yet, strange, I heard it very plainly." 

" Well, Mr. De Forest, we cannot see any distance through 
this fog; but, as soon as ever it rises, we will take a good look 
all around; for, of course, many a poor fellow has been starved 
to death in an open boat before now." 

The breakfast bell rang, and De Forest followed the Captain 
to the table, swallowed two cups of coffee, one after the other, 
while scarcel}' eating anything, and then returned to the deck, 
which now seemed to have a sort of fascination for him. Again 
he suddenly stops from his walk, and, throwing himself into the 
same listening attitude as before, he exclaimed: 

" My God! I heard it again!" 

"What was it like ?" said the Captain. 

" Oh, it seemed like a woman's cry for help. I am sure I 
heard it; I cannot be mistaken." 

" Well, Mr. De Forest, my ears are good sea-ears, and I heard 
nothing. However, the fog is clearin^f away; so we will soon 
see." 

The fog now raised, and the whole expanse of the sea was 
visible; but nothing appeared in sight. 

De Forest still looked with intense excitement in all directions, 
and to satisfy him, more than from any lingering doubt that De 
Forest might be right, the Captain ordered a man up in the rig- 
ging with a glass in hand, telling him to take a careful look 
around the whole distance in sight. De Forest watched the 
sailor, as he slowly passed the glass around the horizon, as 
though his own life depended on the result. At length the 
sailor cried out: 

" A boat ahoy!" 

"A boat?" exclaimed the Captain and De Forest, in one 
breath. 

"Yes; a boat with a red signal out, but nothing to be seen 
stirring. Aye, yes; something now moves in the bow of the 
boat." 



604 PIONEER TIMES IK CALIFORNIA. 

De Forest became as pale as death, as the sailor spoke, and, 
■without saying a word, he turned his eyes on the Captain. The 
Captain understood him, and instantly called to the look-out: 

" Hold the boat in view until I get the brig in the right course 
to overhaul her." 

" Aye, aye, sir," came back from the look-out. In five min- 
utes more the May Day was bearing down on the boat, now 
j)lainly in sight to all, and all saw a figure, like that of a man or 
boy, jumping up and down in the boat as if frantic with joy, and 
then a wild cry is heard by every one on the May Day. De 
Forest leans over the the side of the brig, his eyes fixed on the 
boat, his arms outstretched, unconscious of everything around 
him, saying all the time, he knew not why: " Poor Minnie ! 
poor Minnie ! why did I leave you ? Oh, why did I leave you ?" 



CHAPTER XXII. 



A VISIT TO FATHER MAGINNIS — CAPTAIN WARD S PROPOSAL. 

As soon as Walter returned from seeing De Forest off in the 
Oregon steamer, Minnie and he ate their breakfast, and then 
started arm-in-arm to see Father Maginnis. They found him as 
usual busily engaged about the asylum. 

•'• Well, well," said he, " what is it that brings you both here 
this morning, when you know how my time is taken up ?" 

The brother and sister did not mind this sort of reception, as 
they now understood the good man perfectly. They knew he 
was rough in manners, but kind in heart to overflowing. 

" Can you give us half an hour of your time. Father?" said 
Walter. 

" Half an hour; tut, tut ! What do you want of so much? 
But go on, and I will stay, if I can, to hear you out ; only be as 
quick as possible." 

Then Walter gave him a history of the robbery and the forged 
note, and of his present position. Father Maginnis kept his 
eyes on Walter the whole time he was speaking, as if he wanted 
to read every expression on his face. As Walter finished, he 
said : 

" Why, you are very simple. If your story is true, and I be- 
lieve it is, these fellows Ward and Brown have your lost gold ; 
and if this note is a forgery, they have fixed the whole thing up 
to get more money out of you, or get some hold on you for some 
jjurpose. " 

" Why, Father, I find it hard to think so badly of these men 
as that [" 

" Tut, tut ! There are bad men in the world, as well as good. 
Ward and Brown are the men who took your money, as sure as 
3'ou are sitting there ; and the}- are after something now, so look 
out for them ; and, if I am right, they will try and get this note 
out of the bank before you can pav it. Then they will have a 
power over you that might give you great trouble." 



606 PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 

" Father, you surprise me, and the more so because sister Min- 
nie here takes your view of the matter." 

Walter then explained that he had the Hilton notes, and all 
their new furniture, to secure the payment of the two thousand 
dollars, if he could find some one who had it to lend. 

" Well, Walter, I will ask John Sullivan to let you have the 
money, and I think he will do it." 

Just then the bell rang, and Father Maginnis went to the door 
himself. It was some fifteen minutes before he reappeared. As 
he entered, he said : 

" The person whom I have just let in is an old sea Captain of 
the name of Fitzgerald. He is a good man, and is rich, and has 
not much to do with his money but to live on it. He often lends 
me money when I want it for the asylum, so I have just asked 
him to lend you the two thousand dollars, and he says he will if 
I say so. I will bring him in, Walter, and let you speak to him 
yourself, as to how you propose to secure the monej." 

" Thank you, Father; I will do so." 

So Father Maginnis called his visitor in, and introduced him 
to Walter and Minnie. He was a fine-looking old man, and 
seemed robust in health, and had a very bene ^^olent countenance. 
Walter showed the Hilton notes^ explained all about them, and 
gave Edmund Allen as reference as to Hilton's standing, and 
stated besides that he would store their piano at a warehouse, 
and give the warehouse receipt to the Captain as additional se- 
curity. The Captain said he would not take the young lady's 
piano; but Father Maginnis said : 

" Yes, Captain, you must, or I will not let you lend the 
money." 

So it was all settled, and Captain Fitzgerald agreed to call that 
afternoon at Allen Wheeler & Co.'s and make the necessary in- 
quiry of them as to Hilton's standing; and if all was satisfactory, 
he promised to take up the note at the bank the first thing in the 
morning, and Walter gave him a written order on the bank for 
the note. Thanking Father Maginnis and the Captain both, 
they were about to leave, when Father Maginnis said : 

" Come back here, Minnie, and sing some of those Irish songs 
you have for the Captain." 

Poor Minnie, she was not much in singing humor; but, with 
a bright smile, she said: 

" Certainly, if the Captain would like to hear them." 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 607 

" Of course, Miss Minnie, I would like to hear a good Irish 
song at any time." 

So the Father led the way into the Sisters' Orphan Asylum 
joaiior, where there was a handsome piano. The very fact that 
Minnie's heart was sad and anxious filled her fine voice now 
with the deepest melody. At the Captain's request, she sang 
some of Moore's beautiful songs, and others that the Captain 
called to her mind, concluding with the "Wearing of the 
Green." The Captain seemed enraptured, and often had much 
to do to conceal his emotion. When Minnie had concluded, he 
took her hand to wish her good-bye, and, as he did so, said: 

" Miss Minnie, have you any Irish blood in your family ?" 

" Oh, yes, Captain; my mother was born m Ireland, and I 
learned all those songs from her." 

'* Why, Miss Minnie, you do not know what a strange feeling 
came over me while you were singing; for, when I was young, I 
had a dear sister who used to sing those very songs, and I could 
almost believe that you were she while you sat at the piano." 

The good Captain could not command his voice further, so he 
turned away. Father Maginnis, seeing the state of things, 
broke in with: 

"Well, well; I have lost too much time; so be off with you 
all." And, turning to Walter, he continued: " Be sure and not 
forget to send the warehouse receipt to the Captain; and, Walter 
look out for those men I told you about." 

As Walter was about to answer, he exclaimed: 

" Be off, I tell you; I have something else to do besides talk- 
ing." 

The Captain now stepped up, and said: 

" Mr. Wagner, you need not trouble yourself about the piano 
or warehouse receipt. I will not touch it, no matter what Father 
Maginnis here says. I know my own business, and I will not 
touch the warehouse receipt." 

Walter was about to remonstrate, but the Caj^tain waved his 
hand, saying: 

" No, no; I would even lend you the money without those 
notes, if that was necessary. Do not touch your sister's piano, 
or I Avill not lend the money." 

" Well, well," said Father Maginnis, " let him have hia own 
way. There is no managing an Irishman, anyway. They are 
all as obstinate as mules. So be off!" 



608 PIONEEE TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 



1 



Captain Fitzgerald laughed, and said in a lialf-wbisper to 
Minnie: " Father Maginnis was never obstioate himself, we all 
know, Miss Minnie." 

Then Minnie again reached her hand to the Captain, saying 
with the sweetest smile: 

" Will you not come and see us. Captain?" 

' ' Thank you, my dear young lady. It will make me most 
happy to do so." 

"■ Be off, be off!" shouted Father Maginnis. And so they 
parted. 

As the brother and sister walked home, they were silent for a 
while. Then Minnie looked u^) into "Walter's face, and he saw 
tears on lier cheek, as she said: 

" What a good, kind friend Grodhas sent us ! I feel so much 
encouraged, Walter, and so much more happy, now that we are 
almost sux-e of the payment of the note." 

"Yes, dear Minnie; I understand your feelings perfectly, God 
is surely with us in our trouble." 

As soon as they reached home, they found dinner ready, and 
enjoyed it with good appetites, feeling well satisfied with their 
morning's work. After dinner, Walter left to keep an appoint- 
ment with John A. McGlynn, who was yet his warm friend, 
and was actively at work for him in efforts to get him once more 
in business. As he was leaving, he kissed Minnie, and said: 
" I am sorry, darling Minnie, that you are to be troubled with 
Ward ; but I think he will try to act the gentleman and not press 
his suit after he finds it disagreeable to 3"ou." 

Minnie remained sitting for a moment after Walter walked 
out; but, suddenly, a lonesome, almost frightened feeling came 
upon her, and she started up to recall Walter, and ask him not 
to go until after Ward had paid his announced visit; but, on 
reaching the street, Walter was nowhere to be seen. So, re- 
turning, she went into the kitchen and told Jane that she ex- 
pected a visitor she did not like that afternoon, and that while 
he was in the sitting-room, not to be far out of the way. Jane 
promised, so Minnie tried to compose herself as well as she 
could to go through the ordeal before her. 

She had not long to wait. The bell rang, and Jane went to 
the door, and showed Captain Ward into the sitting-room. Up 
to this time Minnie had been shrinking and almost trembling in 
anticipation of the visit; but, now that she was called on to 
speak and to act, her true womanhood of character seemed to 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFOBNIA. 609 

come to her at once. She was instantly calm, dignified and self- 
possessed, as much so as she ever was in her whole life. She 
entered the room, and "Ward arose, saying, as he reached out his 
hand: 

" Oh, Miss Minnie, I am so glad to see you." 

His voice was low and soft, and Minnie thought it trembled a 
little. 

" Thank you, Captain," was her only reply, and they both sat 
down. 

Ward tried to enter into conversation on indifferent subjects, 
and Minnie did all she could to help him to do so, in a half-hope 
of leading him away from his intention as announced to "Walter. 
After a few minutes of this sort of effort. Ward turned to Min- 
nie, and suddenly said: 

" Miss Minnie, I came to- see you to-day, with your brother's 
consent, to speak to you on a subject that is life or death to 
me." 

He paused, and breathed hard. Minnie promptly said: 

" Captain Ward, I would be sorry to believe that the result 
of any conversation with me would be of much consequence to 
you one way or the other." 

" Then Miss Minnie, you are totally mistaken, for I will be 
perfectly candid with you, and tell you what I had hoped you 
already knew; that I love you with the fiercest passion. You 
have a power over me no other woman ever had. Yes, Miss 
Minnie; our fates are linked together. Yes," said he, moving 
close to her, while his large, dark eyes fell on hers; " I feel it 
in my whole system; my fate is your fate. Yes^ Miss Minnie; I 
loved you before I saw you. I now love you as no mortal man 
ever loved woman before. There is a mystery in it I do not 
pretend to understand." 

Minnie's eyes never flinched under his terrible gaze, aud he 
continued: 

"Oh, yes, Miss Minnie; our fates are linked together. You 
cannot live and reject me; I cannot live and be rejected by you. 
I have property in other lands, and gold and diamonds, all to 
place at your feet. I will swear to be your slave for life. I will 
humble myself to the dust, if you but reach out your hand and 
save me from the fate that is sure to befall me if you reject me." 

Minnie now, in a proud, almost commanding, voice, and with 

her eyes yet fixed on his with unfaltering steadiness, said: 

' ' Captain Ward, save such extravagant talk for those who 
39 . 



610 PIONEER TIMES IK CALIFORNIA. 

would be pleased to bear it. Your language, sir, is offensive to 
me, as it would be to any woman of common sense. Your fate 
is not linked to mine, nor mine to yours, thank God! I bave 
never given you any encouragement, Captain Ward, tbat would 
authorize you to make those protestations to me, and I therefore 
hope that you will not renew them in any manner whatever; for 
they can result in nothing tbat is agreeable to either of us." 

Ward's eyes now sank away from hers, as in a low voice he 
said : 

" I implore you not to scorn my love. It is wild and passion- 
ate; it is deep and fervent; and what I say is true, that my fate is 
linked to your life — yes, the lives of us both, as I see it, hangs 
on your answer." 

" Captain Ward, I again beg of you to desist from addressing 
me in that sort of language, or in any language ou this subject. 
I have always tried to show you by my manner that I had no 
feeling or interest in common with you, and you should have 
spared me the necessity of being so plain with you." 

" Oh, you were always cold; but the colder you were the fiercer 
I became in my love . Yes; while you were cold, I was on fire. 
I will ask you now, Miss Minnie, in a respectful manner, the di- 
rect question, and beware how you answer me: Will you be my 
wife. Miss Minnie Wagner?" 

"Never, while a sense of understanding, or life, remains." 

" And that is your unalterable answer ?" said Ward, rising to 
his feet, while the tone of his voice changed from the humble, 
suing lover's to haughty boldness. 

"Yes, sir; my answer now, and forever more." 

"Then I have to tell you, haughty Miss Minnie, that within tu'o 
days you will change your haughty answer, or see your brother 
ignominiously condemned to State Prison for forgery." 

"Ah," said Minnie, "then you are his accuser; I always 
thought so." 

" No, I am not; but Brown and another friend of mine de- 
sire me to say to you that, unless you marry me within the next 
two days, they will bring the matter before the authorities, and 
then there will be no escape for him." 

" Leave my presence, instantly, shameless villain !" said Min- 
nie, rising to her feet, and confronting Ward with as bold a mien 
as though armed with physical strength and weapons that would 
command his obedience. 



tlONEER TIMES IN CALIFOUNIA.. 611 

Ward looked at her a moment, as if uncertain what to do, then 
said : 

" I give you one more chance to relent, and then, if you do 
not do so, it is not love that will pursue you any more." 

And as he said this, he stepped forward so as to bring his face 
close to her, while his eyes gleamed like a wolf's about to spring 
on its -prey; his lips shrank back from his large, white teeth, 
while he hissed into her ear the last pai^'t of the sentence: 

" No; it is not love anymore. You have scorned that; but hate 
— the deadliest that ever prompted to blood or vengeance — that 
•will now be on your track !" 

Minnie, undaunted, looked more than her full height as she 
said: 

" Coward, to threaten a woman! God is my shield, and I fear 
you not!" 

•' Oh, we will see ; we will see. I tell you that you will crouch 
at m}^ feet, and beg to be my wife, before you are two days older. 
Good-night, proud girl; we will soon meet again, and then — and 
(hen, my time comes to hear you cry for mercy." 

As he said the last words, he rushed from the house. Minnie 
•walked after him with a firm step, she knew not why, exactly, 
and locked the door. As she returned, she met Jane coming 
into' the sitting-room with a frightened look. 

" Oh, Jane," she said, " come and sit near me. I am trembling 
all over. That terrible man, or fiend, or whatever he is, has 
frightened me out of my senses! Oh! if you had seen him, Jane, 
when I rejected his offer. Oh, he looked like anything but a 
man!" 

As Minnie spoke, she held Jane tightly by the arm, and, as 
they sat together, rested her head on her shoulder. 

" Say some prayers. Miss Minnie, and you will get over it. 
Sure, that never fails me, and a poor girl, the likes of me, has 
often nothing else to comfort her, and God always somehow 
takes care of her." 

Now both were silent, and then Minnie's lips moved in 
obedience to Jane's suggestion, and tears stole down her cheeks. 
As Jane had predicted, courage had come back to Minnie, and, 
as she sat up and wiped her eyes, she said: 

" Did you hear what passed, Jane ?" 

" Only the last j^art of it. Miss. As I came into the little 
entry I heard you say, so brave like, that you defied him, and 



612 PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 

depended on God; and then I heard him threaten you so terri- 
bly, and almost defy God; and, if he had not gone away, I was 
just coming in to stand by you; and I had the big butcher-knife 
in my hand all ready, but God only knows if I could have used 
it, if he was to come at us." 

Minnie shuddered, as she said: 

" Thank you, Jane; you are a brave girl." 

Now they both grew calm, and Jane resumed her work, x^re- 
paring the evening meal, and Minnie busied herself in doing 
up some housework she had left undone in her hva'ry in the 
morning. She was startled, while thus engaged, by hearing a 
heavy, excited step on the front i^oi'ch; the door flew open, and 
Walter stood before her, with an expression of excitement in his 
face she had never seen there m her life before. It was an ex- 
pression of the fiercest and most uncontrolled anger. 



CHAPTER XXIII. 



WALTEE AND WARD CAUGHT IN A TRAP. 

When Walter left Minnie to go to see John McGlynn, he was 
calmer in his mind than he had been at any time since the dis- 
covery of the matter of the forgery. He found John in accord- 
ance with the appointment, and had a long, friendly talk with 
him. He found him so willing to take an interest in his welfare 
that he at length said: 

" I have made up my mind, Mr. McGlynn, to disclose to you 
the real cause of my present position, as I believe you will have 
faith in my truth, and, perhaps, you can the better help me 
when you know all; and then I begin to doubt men I have here- 
tofore believed in without a shadow of a doubt. I have believed 
in them against my sister's judgment, and against the judgment 
of other fx'iends. I would like to have your views in a confiden- 
tial way." 

" Well, Walter, you must be your own judge. Two heads are 
better, the saying is, than one, even if one is a sheep's head." 

Then Walter gave John a full account of the robbery, the note 
indorsed by forgery and all, and about Father Maginnis getting 
Captain Fitzgerald to agree to take up the note. John said: 

" Does that fellow. Ward, want your sister, Walter ?" 

" Yes; he is furiously attached to her, and got my consent to 
ask her to-day. I gave it, as I thought it the best way of end- 
iQg the matter." 

" What view does your sister take of Ward?" 

" Oh, she cannot endure the sight of him," 

" Well," said John, " I think the whole thing is very clear. 
This fellow Ward and his friend Brown are two confidence 
villains, working into each other's hands. I have seen them 
both, and there is nothing honest about either of them; they are 
both from Sydney, and the chances are that they are escaped 
convicts. They have all your money, and they now want your 



614 PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 

sister. This is the view I take of it, Walter, and, though I may 
be mistaken, it will do you no harm to take my theory of the 
situation as the true one, and keep a sharp lookout for your 
sister's safety. " 

"My God!" exclaimed Walter, "if you are right, Mr. Mc- 
Glynn, I never should have given my consent to Ward's making 
a proposal to Minnie!" 

" Oh, as to that, perhaps it was best that she should herself 
give him his dismissal. " 

" Well," said Walter, " I will at once go and throw myself in 
the way of those fellows, and see what I can make out of them." 

" Yes, do," said John; " and be sure and keep cool. It is 
your only chance of discovering their plots and plans. I will 
call to-morrow afternoon at your house, if you wish, and we will 
compare notes, and may be we can trap the rascals in some way 
yet. Anyway, I will tiy and help you work the case up; and I 
am glad you told me all, for I think I see daylight for you not 
far ahead." 

As Walter walked along Montgomery street, intending to go 
to the Oriental Hotel, he reflected on all the incidents of the 
robbery, and of his whole connection with Ward, from the first 
day he met him in Dowuieville, and light seemed to dawn on 
many heretofore unaccountable circumstances, and the convic- 
tion forced itself on his mind that McGlynn was right Id his 
theory of the' whole thing. Just as he came to this conclusion, 
he looked ujd, and there stood Ward, directly in front of him, 
apparently waiting for his approach. Walter's brow knit into 
almost a frown in spite of himself, as he acknowledged Ward's 
salute. 

" Wagner," said Ward, " I would like to see you in my room. 
Have you any objection to coming with me ?" 

" None," said Walter, in a more formal manner than he had 
ever used when speaking to Ward before. And, without utter- 
ing further words, they walked down Bush street, and were soon 
in Ward's handsome room, at the Oriental Hotel. Ward threw 
himself into an easy chair, and pointed out a seat to Walter, 
saying : 

" Please be seated, for I have an important communication to 
make to you." 

Walter took the seat Ward indicated, without saying a word ; 
but his eyes were fixed on Ward with almost sternness. Ward 
avoided Walter's look, as he commenced ; 



PIONEER TBIES IN CALIFORNIA. 615 

" Friend "Walter, you may observe that I am a little excited; 
and, perhaps, you think it is because your sister has just scorned 
the love and devotion I laid at her feet; as, of course, she did 
this with your full knowledge that she was to do it, and, I sup- 
pose, your approval." 

This sort of a way of opening the conversation was offensive to 
AValter, and seemed to arouse him; for he now sat erect, and 
looked full in Ward's face, with an angry expression, as he said: 

" Go on, sir." 

Ward, still averting his look from him, continued : 

" I was saying, Wagner, that you might suppose it was because 
of this contemptuous treatment I was excited; but you are mis- 
taken, if you think so. I am excited entirely on your account, 
as you shall hear; though, by your manner and look, I see very 
little friendship for me on your part this morning; but never 
mind, I will act the friend to you, if you will let me, in this 
great difficulty you are in." 

"I do not understand, Captain, what you are driving at. 
Please be explicit, and you will find me no less so." 

" Oh, you do not understand me, Mr. Walter Wagner," naid 
Ward, rising from his seat, and commencing to pace up and 
down the room, while his voice grew bitter and contemptuous in 
its tone. "You do not understand, sir, that in the eyes of 
the law you are a forger, sir, and that if I — yes, I — do not reach 
out my hand to help you, you will very soon wear the uniform of 
San Quentin. Do you understand that, Mr. Walter Wagner ? 
Say 'Yes' or 'No!'" 

Walter was held silent by a rushing tide of passion that al- 
most blinded him, and Ward went on: 

" Oh, that is a new light to you, is it? Well, I have to tell 
you plainly that Brown, and Jack Lawson, the first mate of my 
vessel, both know of your unfortunate position, and they both 
declare that in the State Prison you shall go, or perhaps to the 
merciful protection of the Vigilance Committee, with Sam Bran- 
nan at its head, if your sister Minnie does not marry me to- 
morrow — yes, to-morrow." 

And now as Ward said this, he seemed to lose all control of 
himself, and ran on, in a sort of wild fury, never once looking 
towards Walter, whose eyes he could not summon courage to 
meet, and Walter yet listened in silent fury as Wax'd continued: 

•' Yes ; and as I have gone so far, I will say to you that I have 



616 PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 

another hold, you do not know of, over your sister, or will have 
it soon; and I tell you she may as well marry me like an honest 
girl, for if she does not, before two days she shall flutter at my 
feet and beg for marriage." 

Just as these last words came from "Ward's lips, his eye caught 
the sight of Walter reaching for a bowie-knife that hung in a 
belt on the wall, and his ear caught a sound coming from Wal- 
ter like the stifled yell of a man in a fit. The truth flashed on 
him in an instant, and, without a look towards Walter, he made 
one bound for the door, and cleared it, just as the knife in 
Walter's hand passed close to his back, and was broken in the 
panel of the door, as it lay back against the wall. In two 
bounds more Ward cleared the long flight of stairs, with Wal- 
ter just one bound behind him, with the broken knife yet in his 
hand. As quick as a flash. Ward brought the outside door to, 
and turned the key in the lock. The lock was a large-sized one, 
and at first resisted Walter's terrible wrench, but yielded to his 
second furious efi'ort, and he leaped on the street in front of the 
hotel, but Ward was nowhere in sight. As Walter looked all 
around, be said, half-aloud : " Oh, you miserable fiend, you 
shall not escape me in this way! I will go home and see that 
my dear, darling Minnie is all safe; then I will get my own re- 
volver and bowie-knife, and this wretch shall not live another 
day to repeat this vile language in regard to my angel sister!" 

So on he almost ran, until he reached his cottage, when he 
threw open the door and stood before Minnie, almost insane 
with the passion of revenge. Minnie stood before him, calm; 
but she turned deadly pale as she observed the fearful excite- 
ment of Walter's look and manner. 

" Oh, thank God, you are safe, my darling!" he exclaimed, as 
he threw his arms around her. Kissing her forehead and then 
both her cheeks, he continued : 

" Oh, yes, you are safe; and you shall remain so, Minnie dar- 
ling; so do not be afraid, and look so pale. Oh, he shall pay for 
what he said! Yes; dared to say to me of you, Minnie! I will 
not tell you, Minnie, what he said. No, no; for the wretch is 
to pay for it with his life! Yes, Minnie, with his life! This very 
night shall shnt down on his dead body, and this is the hand !" 
Here he raised his right arm and shook it with a fierce gesture, 
while the other was yet around Minnie's waist. " Yes, Min- 
nie; there is the arm that shall avenge the insult! I care not 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFOKMA. 617 

that lie has proved a robber, a thief, or that vile thing — a false 
friend! No; I care not for all that; but he has dared to threaten 
you with a vile threat, darling sister; so, for this, he is to die to- 
night! Yes; and no other man shall dare to rob me of the 
pleasure of putting the vile thing that he is out of the world! 
So, darling Minnie, do not be afraid any more. I will soon be 
back, for it will not take me long to find the wretch!" 

As he spoke, he withdrew his arm from Minnie, and, walking 
to where his belt, with knife and revolver, hung, he took them 
down and buckled them on his waist. 

While Walter was addressing Minnie in this wild manner, she 
held his arm grasped tightly with both hands. She still held it 
as he armed himself, while trembling in every limb. Now, with 
quivering lips, she exclaimed: 

" Walter, my darling brother, what can all this mean ? Do 
not, I beseech you, Walter, harbor such terrible feelings of re- 
venge. If this man has made a vile threat, do not let that turn 
you into a revengeful murderer. Let him go; we will both in 
the future avoid him, and God will save us from his threats, as 
sure as there is light at noonday." 

" Oh, Minnie, do not talk to me in that way. You are often 
right; but you cannot, as a woman, understand this case. Oh, 
no, Minnie ; oh, no, he has dared to insult my darling pet." And 
here again he threw his arm around her, and, looking down on her 
with the tenderest, compassionate love, as he continued: ** Yes; 
he has insulted my darling, sweet sister, that all her life has 
stood close to me in every trouble, whether as a boy at school 
or a man in the worid, always sacrificing herself for me! But 
I will avenge the insult dearly, as it is my duty to do! Yes, Min- 
nie; my duty!" And now Walter's words were slow and distinct, 
and in a low tone, he continued: "I will strike this wi'etch 
down on sight, like the wolf that he is. I will then cut his false, 
vile heart from his body, and throw it to some dog to devour, and 
then I will kill the brute that holds a thing so vile !" 

Minnie was now terribly alarmed for the state of Walter's 
mind, and, summoning all the powers of her noble womanhood to 
aid her in the struggle she saw before her, she turned to her 
brother, and standing erect, laid a hand on each of his shoulders, 
as she exclaimed in a voice of the sweetest entreaty, and yet of 
decision and firmness: 

" Walter, my darling brother, calm yourself; calm yourself, 



G18 PIONEEE TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 

ray darling brother. Do not for a moment liarbor in your breast 
those murderous intentions. I tell you, my brother, it is the 
arch fiend himself who is urging you on to your own and my 
destruction. " 

Walter shrank from his sister's look, and, turning away, he 
said: 

" Your destruction, Minnie ! Your destruction! Oh, Minnie! 
how can you speak so ? What do I care for myself in compari- 
son to mj love for you ? Your safety and your honor have been 
threatened, Minnie; and reproach me not that, in defiance of all 
the world, I go to strike down the man who has dared to make 
the threat!" 

Poor Minnie ! this day had tested the strength of every nerve 
in her system, and every faculty of her mind, and well had they 
stood it up to this point. As Walter now turned away with 
words of half- reproach, her arms suddenly started out to him; 
but she could not move, and an exj)ression of almost agony ap- 
peared on her face as she struggled for words. Walter marked 
the silence, and, turning, raised his eyes; then his arms were out- 
stretched, too, and, for an instant of time, each, with quivering 
lips, gazed in the other's face; then, a wild cry from poor Min- 
nie, and they are locked in each other's arms. 

" Oh, darling brother," Minnie exclaimed, in a voice choked 
with sobbing and hysterical weeping, " you will not leave your 
poor Minnie to do this terrible act which God forbids! No, no; 
you will not leave her all alone here in California to be j)ointed 
at in shame, and with no jDOwer to defend her darling Wal- 
ter's good name. Father gave me to you; mother sent me to 
you! Oh, Walter, will you blacken our honored name, and leave 
your darling Minnie, that could not live without your love, to 
wither and die in shame ?" 

While Walter struggled for a voice to answer, Minnie's form 
became heav;^' in his arms; her hands dropped from around his 
neck, her head fell back, and she was still, lifeless, and as white 
as if dead. 

"Great Heavens!" he exclaimed, "I have killed her! Oh, 
merciful God, forgive me, forgive me! and, oh, save my sister, 
and I will with humility bear the insults of the whole world !" 

And, as he spoke and prayed, he laid her on the sofa, and 
called loudly for Jane. Rushing in, Jane loosened Minnie's 
dress, and did all that was possible to restore her, while Walter 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFOENIA. 619 

knelt, praying for forgiveness and mercj^. Minnie's faint was 
heavy and long, but at length her color began to come back. 

" All is right, Mr. Wagner," said the girl; " she is coming to 
nicely." 

Then "Walter poured out his thanks to the Giver of all good, 
and renewed the promises he made while in the agony of his fright. 
He seated himself near Minnie, took her hand in his, and, kissing 
it, retained it. Minnie opened her eyes, and sadly smiled as she 
looked at her brother; then she shut them again, and remained 
some minutes perfectly quiet. Again she opened her eyes and 
said: 

" I fear I frightened you, poor Walter. I recollect now what 
happened. AVhat a weak thing I was to give way; but it came 
on me so suddenly." 

Walter's whole manner was changed, as he said: 

"Minnie, it was not half so strange as the lit I had on me; 
but it is all over, thank God ! I see now clearly what a blind, 
furious passion I had been plunged into by the sudden discovery 
of that man's villainy, and of his terrible language about you; 
but, as always, you saved me, Minnie. Yes; saved us both. I 
believe I could now meet that wretch of a man with perfect com- 
posure." 

Minnie, without speaking, reached out her arm, and, slipping 
it gently around her brother's neck, drew him down to her, and 
fondly kissed him. Now, as Minnie remained cuddled up on the 
sofa, Walter retained his seat near her, and they talked over 
their position, and Walter repeated his interview with John Mc- 
Glynn, which very much pleased Minnie. He then told, in a 
calm, quiet way, all that had passed with Ward, and they both 
wondered what Ward could have meant by saying that he would 
soon have another hold over Minnie. 

"Oh," said Walter, " I think it is but an idle boast. How- 
ever, be careful, Minnie, and do not go out alone until we get 
the fellow completely exposed." 

" I think you are right, Walter; for, you know, he threatened 
me in much the same manner before he saw you. But, with 
good John McGlynn's help, I think we will be able to expose 
him. And do you know, Walter, that Isaac Hilton and I always 
believed that it was Ward who instigated that man to try to 
murder James De Forest?" And Minnie shuddered as she 
spoke. 



620 PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 

"Walter remained in thought for some minutes, and then said: 
" I can now believe anything of him, and the more I look back 
the more light seems to come to me. I recollect, too, that one 
day I strolled into Ward's room, and was surprised at seeing, 
written across a paper folded like a bill of items, the name 
' John Ward Cameron Lusk.' I recollect the name well, on ac- 
count of ' Lusk'' being a part of it. Ward saw that I read the 
indorsement, and, taking up the paper, whatever it was, said: 
' I was trying my pen with all the odd names I could string to- 
gether, and the last I thought of, as you see, is the name of De 
Forest's enemy. He ought to be in port soon, and arrange- 
ments are made to nab him the moment his vessel arrives.' 
Then he went to the stove, and threw the paper into the fire. 
So, at the time, I thought nothing more about it; but now it is a 
circumstance to strengthen Hilton's and your suspicions, and I 
will draw McGlynn's attention to it to-morrow." 

Jane now appeared, with a cup of tea for Minnie. 

"Oh, thank you, Jane," said Minnie, as she sat up and took 
the cup; " that is just what I was wishing for." 

" I believe I will take one also, Jane," said Walter, " just to 
keep Miss Minnie company." 

Jane looked joleaser], and brought Walter his cup. As they 
sipped their tea, they enjoyed each other's company until Jane 
announced the evening meal. As they left the tea-table, a gen- 
tleman and lady called to see about their daughter's taking 
music lessons. Minnie, with pleasure, accepted the new pupil, 
and was very much pleased at the call, as it helped to calm her- 
self and Walter, and restore them to their usual current of 
thought and feeling. The visitors seemed very much attracted 
by the brother and sister, and extended their visit until bed- 
time. After the visitors left, the brother and sister, as was their 
habit, joined in their devotions; and on that night, instead of 
the usual kiss at parting, Walter threw his arms around his 
sister and kissed her over and over. Without a word being 
spoken on either side, except the low-murmured " God bless 
you, darling!" from each to the other, they parted for the night. 
There was an undefined fear lingering around Minnie's heart, most 
likely from Ward's threats. After turning from side to side for 
half an hour, she arose from her bed, lit her lamp, and went to 
Jane's room. She asked her to come and sleep with her, and 
Jane at once' complied. Minnie's nerves grew quiet, and she 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 621 

fell asleep; but her slumber was terribly uneasy. In her 
dreams, her father and mother were again near her. . They 
were, she thought, leaning over her, and both were weeping 
and looking with pity and sorrow at her. " Oh, darling father 
and mother, why do you weep?" she said. "Poor Minnie!" 
they answered; " we cannot help it; for to-morrow will be to 
you a day of horror such as you have not yet known, and we 
come once more to remind you that your safety and Walter's 
safety depend on j'our full and unwavering reliance in God. 
He alone can save you. Courage, Minnie, courage!" 

Minnie started u^ in her sleep, and called aloud: " Mother! 
father! kiss me! bless me!" 

Jane now started up, saying: "Miss Minnie, you must have 
had a terrible dream ! " 

" Oh, yes, Jane, I had. Please join me in some prayers,'* 
and Minnie was trembling in every limb, " that I may have 
courage and be a woman; for surely something terrible is com- 
ing upon me." 

" Oh, Miss, do not let dreams frighten you so. You know we 
must not mind dreams. They are all foolishness." 

" No, no, Jane; I do not mind dreams, but yet I am fright- 
ened; and surely there is no harm in praying to God to 
strengthen me, if harm does come." 

" Oh, no; of course not. Miss Minnie." 

And, as always, her jDrayers seemed answered, and courage 
and confidence were restored to her. For the remainder 
of the night, she slept soundly, and arose in the morning 
strengthened and refreshed. Walter, too, felt composed, and 
willing to meet any trouble that might come with cool courage. 
This was soon tested. As the banking hour apiDroached, he 
thought it best to go and see Captain Fitzgerald, to make sure 
that he would take up the note the moment the bank oi^ened. 

" Good-bye, dear Minnie," said he; "I will be back in a little 
while. I am only going to Captain Fitzgerald's, and will come 
directly back. If that villain. Ward, should call on any pre- 
tence, do not let him in, or show yourself, and do not leave the 
house. until I come." 

On receiving Minnie's assent, Walter took his way to Stock- 
ton street, where Cajitain Fitzgerald lived. He had not gone 
more than a block when he observed two men following him. 
He put back his hand to see if his revolver was all right in place, 



622 PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFOENIA. 

and then waited until tbey came up. As they neared him, he 
recognized them to be the two policemen to whom "Ward had in- 
troduced him the morning after the robbery of Ward's safe. 

" Good-morning, Mr. Wagner," said one of the men. 

Walter returned his salutation, saying: 

" What is new, boys ?" 

" Oh, nothing, Mr. Wagner; but we have an unpleasant duty 
to perform." 

" And what is that?" said Walter, a little startled. 

Then the fellow acting as spokesman explained that they had 
a warrant for his arrest on the charge of forgery, and, on Wal- 
ter's asking on whose complaint the warrant was issued, he was 
told on that of Macondray & Co. He then said he would go with 
them, but that he wished first to go back to his own house to in- 
form his sister. This they positively refused to let him do. 
Then he said he wanted them to take him first to the law office 
of Hall McAllister. This they also refused, saying their instruc- 
tions were positive to take him to the County Prison direct, and 
that from there he could send for anyone he wanted to see. They 
then asked him for his revolver, which he unbuckled from his 
waist and handed over. They continued along Stockton street 
west, until they reached the corner of Broadway. Then, just as 
they were apparently turning towards the j)rison, a boy stepped 
up to them, and, addressing the policemen, said: 

' ' The Chief wants you to bring your prisoner to the blue cot- 
tage on Telegraph Hill, where he can stay until he gets his bail 
bonds." 

"Aye, aye," said the policemen. 

Then turning to Walter, he said : 

" I sujDpose the Chief wants to spare you from going to the 
common jail until you get your bonds. That is all." 

There was a confused idea in Walter's mind that something 
was wrong. So he stopped short, and said: 

" I demand to see your warrant before I stir another foot, and 
I have some doubts as to your being policemen." 

" Oh, you doubt us, do you ? Well, here is the warrant, all 
in due form. And look here," said the policeman, as he threw 
open his coat and displayed the city police star on his breast. 
" Do you now doubt, Mr. Wagner?" 

Walter read the warrant for his arrest over, and could see 
nothing wrong about it. So, without further words, he resumed 



PIONEBR TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 623 

his walk between the two policemen, who did not stop until they 
reached Robert Wells & Co.'s rickety blue shanties, on the south- 
west side of Telegraph Hill. Thej entered one of them, and the 
door was locked behind them. Walter found himself in the 
presence of Brown, with four or five villainous-looking- men 
lounging around, with pistols and bowie-knives dangling in their 
belts. No one ajDpeared to notice Walter's presence but Brown, 
who addressed Walter, saying: 

" Oh, Wagner, I am sorry for j'our trouble, I assure you; but 
Captain Ward will be here soon, and will, he tells me, proj)ose 
a way of settling this disagreeable business." 

Walter now comprehended his position. 

" I see I am the victim of Ward's and your villainous treach- 
ery, which may end in my death and that of my sister; but, in 
that event, I have the satisfaction of knowing that the world is 
not large enough for you and yonv cowardly villains to hide 
yourselves in; for my countrymen will pursue you by land and 
sea, until they avenge our fates." 

" Wagner, the time to talk that stuff has passed. So I advise 
you to take things coolly. I have nothing whatever to say to 
you. My duty is to keep j^ou safe until Captain Ward comes, 
and to do that I will have to request you to let these men put 
those irons on," pointing, as he spoke, to a pair of shackles and 
handcuffs lying on the floor. 

" Villain, you dare not!" said Walter, as he threw himself into 
an attitude of defence, with his back to the wall. 

In an instant, half a dozen revolvers were aimed at his body. 
Brown gave a chuckling laugh, as he said: 

" Do you want to die right now, Wagner, or wait to have a 
talk with Ward ? You can do just as you prefer, my dear sir. 
Those irons will go on, or you die now, sure." 

" If I were alone in the world, I would die right here in a fight 
with you and your Sydney bounds, but — " 

" You have no need to finish the sentence, Wagner, I know 
what you would say, and your conclusion is a correct one; you 
wish to live to save your sister, if possible. Boys, put the irons 
on." 

Two of the ruffians laid their revolvers aside, took up the irons 
and fastened them on Walter's legs and wrists. While this was 
doing, Walter made no resistance whatever, not even speaking; 
but seemed lost in thought. Brown then turned to his men and 
said: 



624 PIONEEB TIMES IN CALITOKNIA.. 

" Put up your revolvers, boys." 

And all obeyed, and resumed their former crouching positions 
around the room. 

" Wagner," said Brown, " if you were not such a powerfully- 
built man, I would have spared you this indignity; but Ward is 
now in a game that will not allow us to run the least risk; so you 
must excuse us." 

" Miserable, cowardly, treacherous wretch, do not again dare 
to address me a word! I would rather be here in ignominious 
irons, in the power of murderers and robbers like yourself and 
Ward, than to be either of you and free, a thousand, a thousand 
times!" 

" Oh, that is all a matter of taste, Wagner; but I advise you 
to keep hard names to yourself, and act more patiently." And 
again Brown laughed. 

Walter turned away, and seated himself near a window. He 
remained gazing out, in anxious and terribly mournful thoughts 
of Minnie. 

" Oh 1 what if they seize her in the house !" he kept repeat- 
ing to himself. " They might kill the hired girl, and no one 
would hear Minnie's screams." 

And now he recollected Minnie's warning words: " Never to 
lose confidence in God." So with his whole heart he implored 
God for her safety, asking nothing for himself. Now he sees a 
hack winding slowly up the hill, in the direction of the blue cot- 
tages. His heart leaps with convulsive terror, he knows not why. 
Brown has observed the hack also, and, turning to Walter, says: 

" Wagner, prepare yourself for a surprise ; for that hack, if I 
am not much mistaken, contains your sister !" 

Walter leajoed to his feet, and, raising his shackled arms above 
his head, struck them with all his force against the cottage wall, 
exclaiming : 

" Great, merciful God! guard and save her !" 

" Not a hair of her head shall be harmed," said Brown, " if 
you and she comply with an honorable proposition Captain Ward 
will make you this evening on board the Blue Bell; for now we 
have to be off there." 

Walter groaned, as he said: 

" I told you, villain, not to speak to me !" 

His eyes remained riveted on the carriage. It now neared the 
rickety cottage steps. Brown threw open the door, saying: 

" Here, Wagner, take a seat by your sister ; there is not a mo- 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. G25 

ment to lose ! Here, you fellows; help Mr. Wagner to the hack. 
Take an arm each, and hold him up while he goes down the 
steps." 

As "Walter hobbled down, thus supported, his heart sank with- 
in him, for he hears a suppressed cry of agony from the car- 
riage. 

" Darling Minnie," he exclaims; " how did the villains deceive 
you, so as to get you into their power?" 

"Oh, dear Walter, did you not send for me? Did you not 
write this ?" handing Walter a note as she spoke. 

" Oh, Minnie, it is a vile, wicked forgery !" 

" In with you !" cries Brown, laughing. "^^ You can talk over 
that matter with your sister in the carriage." 

In Walter was helped, or thrust; Brown and two of his gang 
taking seats in the hack also. Down the hill they now dashed, 
until they reached the beach, where Meiggs' wharf was afterwards 
built; then along the shore, westward, they drive, until they 
come to a little cove, where a boat and four men were found, 
evidently waiting for them. Minnie and Waiter were hurried 
into the boat, and, just as they were ready to shove off, Brown 
said: 

" Now, Wagner, it is my duty to tell you, that if you or your 
sister cry out while we are passing either ship or boat, I will 
order you gagged in the roughest way. And if I should fail in 
that, I will not hesitate to have you shot dead in your seats, for 
we are engaged in no child's play now, you understand ?" Then 
he continued to the driver of the carriage : 

" Tom, return that carriage to Orrick Johnson's stable, on 
Kearny street, and answer no questions as to where you have 
been ; and then send Johnny Lucky to the Captain, and let him 
tell the Captain that all worked to a charm — the warrant for ar- 
rest, and his note to the lady; and that we have gone on board 
all right." To the crew of the boat he then gave the order: 

" Shove off, my lads, and give way !" 

As the boat shot out into the bay, Minnie sat close to Walter, 
with one arm around his waist, and the other crossing his breast, 
her hand resting on his opposite shoulder. While thus fondly 
holding him, she looked up into his face, her eyes burning bright 
with the light of faith and hope, as she whispered: 

" Courage ! darling ; courage ! God is near us in His almighty 
power, and will not fail us if we trust Him with unfaltering- 
faith." 

40 



CHAPTER XXIV. 



MISS SCOTT AND LIZZIE — THE STRUGGLE. 

Let us be lookers-on for an hour or so in Miss Scott's highly 
respectable boarding-house. Miss Scott, a most estimable 
maiden lady, with the true American spirit of enterjorise, came, 
late in life, to San Francisco, in the eventful days of which we 
write, and opened a fashionable boarding-house on Montgomery 
street. She was good-hearted and kind in her disposition, made 
many friends in her new home, and was more than usually suc- 
cessful in the sort of enterprise she undertook. 

We now stand in the entry of her nicely-furnished house, the 
evening of the day before Walter and Minnie were kidnaped, as 
related in the last chapter. It is candle light, and after the even- 
ing meal Miss Scott, as it should appear, v^^as just closing a con- 
versation with a nice-looking young English girl. It is hard to 
judge with certainty, as we look at this young person, whether 
she is a young married lady, or an unmarried young lady; but a 
lady judge would say she was the former. She is in fine health, 
and has a very interesting expression on her handsome face. 
Miss Scott says : 

" I am sorry. Miss Lawson, to press the matter, because I never 
had a boarder I liked better than yourself; but three of my lady 
boarders have drawn my attention to the matter, and I can no 
longer be blind to the fact that Captain Ward should fulfill his 
promise to you, and have the marriage ceremony- openly acknowl- 
edged by him, or that you should find a new boarding-house. 
You say he is coming here to-morrow. Tell him what I say, and 
he will undoubtedly come to a conclusion. Tell him if there is 
one day's more delay about it, that I will send for your father 
and brothers, and request them to find you a new boarding-house; 
for I am too poor. Miss Lawson, to be able to run any risk about 
the character of my boarding-house." With trembling, quiver- 
ing lips, and in a very low voice, Miss Lawson answers: 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 627 

" Well, Miss Scott, I will do as you say; but, dear Miss Scott, 
do not let them talk badly of me; it almost kills rae to hear such 
things as you have to-day told me of. To-morrow I will either 
show you the certificate of marriage, or I will quietly change 
my boarding-house." 

And Lizzie, raising her handkerchief to her eyes, and sobbing 
audibly, entered her room. Lizzie Lawson had always the best 
of everything in Miss Scott's boarding-house; she had a nice par- 
lor, or sitting-room, of her own, besides a snug bed-room, both 
on the first floor of the house; all of which was regularly paid 
for in advance by her father. She now passed through her little 
sitting-room into her bed-room, and, throwing herself into a 
chair, seemed for awhile in an agony of grief. Then she drojja 
into deep thought, and seems to grow more calm. After awhile, 
she arose, bathed her face, and took j)ains to arrange her toilet 
properly. She has made up her mind not to join the other lady 
boarders for that evening, in the parlor, as she had always done 
heretofore. So she threw herself into a chair, and took a book 
to read. But this was a failure, for she could not understand 
one word she read. So, laying her book down, she is lost in 
thought. Now, she starts; for she hears the front doorbell ring. 
In a moment more a knock comes on her sitting-room door. She 
knows the knock well, and flies to the door to admit her father. 
He is dressed in his best, as he always is when he comes to see 
Lizzie. 

" Father," she says, in a deep, soft voice, as she draws him in 
by the hand she has caught in both of hers. She closes the door, 
and then flings both arms around his neck and whispers, as she 
kisses his hard, brown cheek over and over: 

" Darling, darling father! I am glad you came. " The old sea- 
man's arms clasped her close, as he says, in a low, but half alarmed 
voice: 

" Is anything the matter with my little Lizzie ? Has any one 
dared to harm my little queen ?" 

"No, dear father; but I am so glad you came, I don't know 
exactly why, but I am so glad." And, as they are both seated on 
the sofa, she kisses him and again clasps his great, huge frame, 
in her delicate, white arms, while she lets her head rest on his 
bosom. Lizzie, though always kind and affectionate to her father 
when they met, had never been so demonstrative before, and Jack 
had always considered his daughter so far above himself in edu- 



628 PIOKEEK TIMES IN CAIIFORNIA. 

catioUj religion and social standing, that he seemed happy in 
just standing at a distance, looking up to her in admiration, 
while he loved her to almost worship . He was proud of her for 
being so far above himself in everything, and seldom went to see 
her, fearing that he might, in some way, drag her down to his 
own humble level. As they are seated now, he feels that he is 
the great oak, and she the frightened bird, seeking shelter from 
some real or fancied impending storm. 

"Tell me, Birdie," he said, "who has frightened my little 
craft so that it runs into this rough harbor for shelter ?" 

"Yes, dear father," she said, smiling sadly; "the harbor 
might be rough to a craft that did not know it and had no pilot 
to steer it in, but here is the pilot of your little ci'aft." And, as 
she spoke, she laid her hand on her heart, " and to-night I but 
obey the helm in that j)ilot's hands when I run into this harbor 
for shelter; for oh, dear father, something tells me that to-mor- 
row will be for me a storm from daylight until dark, that is to 
decide my fate in this world!" 

" Strange, Birdie, why you should have such thoughts; but one 
thing is sure, what decides your fate decides mine also. But 
tell me, Birdie," and now a dark, uneasy look came in Jack's 
face as he spoke, " why do you fear, and what do you fear ?" 

Lizzie did not at once answer; but, wiping the moistui'e from 
her forehead with her handkerchief, she seemed trying to col- 
lect her thoughts. Then she said : 

" Does the Blue Bell sail tomorrow, father?" 

" Yes, of course Birdie ; but surely the Captain has told you, 
and—" 

" He has told me nothing, father, and has not been to see me 
for ten days." 

"Ha !" said Jack, rising to his feet, with his clenched right 
hand lifted, as if to strike, " does he dare to think that he can 
slight — but no, no, he cannot; for. Birdie, I would tear him limb 
from limb, if he did, and he must know that I would." 

" Dear father, be calm. Sit by me, and advise me." 

"Yes, Birdie, I will ; and let me ask you now, has he never 
asked you to be his wife ?" 

" Asked me, father !" exclaimed Lizzie, in sudden excitement. 
" Oh, yes ; over and over again. And when I consented, I 
wanted to tell you and the boys, but he would not let me, and 
made me promise not to tell you or the boys; and then he was so 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 629 

kind, and said he loved me so that he could not keep away from 
me." Now Lizzie laid her hand on her father's shoulder, and 
rested her head against his breast, with her face averted, as she 
proceeded in a low voice: " Then one day, he got me to go 
with him on my knees and swear to be his wife, and he swore 
that he was my husband forever more. Oh, do not blame me, 
father. I believed him, and he promised to bring the Rev. Mr. 
Vermeyr to perform the ceremony, and then he did not bring 
him, and put me off, on one excuse or another, from day to day; 
and then he staid away for days and days, and got angry when I 
spoke about Mr. Vermeyr, and said if I bothered him so, he 
would not come back; and then he staid whole weeks away. And, 
oh, father, I am so unhappy, and was so frightened to-night, for 
Miss Scott told me that if Caj)tain Ward did not marry me at 
once, I must find another boarding-house." 

As Lizzie ceased to speak, she covered her face with both of 
her hands, and gave way to a fit of uncontrolled weeping. Jack 
clasped her in his arms, exclaiming : 

" Birdie, darling, do not cry in that way. It is all my fault. 
The boys warned me, but I would not believe them." Then in 
a husky, low voice, he added: " The parson shall come to- 
morrow, and the ceremony shall be performed, or the sharks will 
fight for his body in the bay. This I swear to you, my poor 
Birdie ." 

" Oh, father, I do not want that, for — for he may yet do right, 
as I got a note from him to-day, saying he would be here to see 
me to-morrow morning." 

" Oh ! then he wrote to you that he would be here to-morrow, 
did he. Birdie? That looks better, and as you say, he may do 
right yet. Yes, yes; it must be that he intends to bring the 
parson with him, for he dare not take the Blue Bell out of the 
Heads, if you do not walk the quarter-deck his wife, and queen 
of our ship. So, have courage. Birdie; all may yet be right, 
and the boys and I will see you through." 

Lizzie now grew more calm, and Jack walked up and down the 
little parlor, as if in thought of all he had heard; and sometimes 
there was a terrible, fierce expression on his countenance. At 
length he stopped, and, turning to Lizzie, he said: 

" I tell you, Birdie, I will not let the boys know this, until 
after you see the Captain, to-morrow, and then, if all goes right, 
we will never tell them." Then Jack leaned his head down to- 



630 PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 

wards Lizzie's, and in a slow, measured voice, continued: " But, 
if he fails you, they shall know all, and then it will be better for 
him if he had never been born !" 

" "Well, dear father, to- morrow will decide all; I did love him 
once, but now some way I have a terrible fear of him, but I may 
be wrong, and he may be all right yet; but to-morrow will de- 
cide, as 1 said before. So come, dear father, in the afternoon, 
and bring the boys with you, for I so long to see them." 

" All right. Birdie, I will, I will; and now you must have cour- 
age, and when you are talking to the Captain jon must be bold 
and plain with him ; and recollect that you have a father and 
brothers who will stand by 3'ou to the last. And here," con- 
tinued Jack, taking from his belt a beautiful ivory -handled dag- 
ger, sheathed in a red morocco case, mounted with gold, " I 
bought this for you to wear when 3'ou were installed queen of our 
ship, but you may as well take it now, for it is not out of place 
with any lady here in a new country." As Lizzie eagerlj^ reached 
for the dagger, her hand slightly trembled, and her cheek grew 
a little pale. She laid it on the table, saying: 

" Thank you, father; it is beautiful." Then, seeing that Jack 
was preparing to leave, she said: "Have you to go so soon, 
father?" 

" Yes, Birdie; I am going on board the Blue Bell to-night, for 
I do not want the Captain to know I was here." 

" Well, good-night, darling father," said Lizzie, in a low, 
half -faltering voice, as she laid her hand on his shoulder, " and 
— and — well, I just wanted to say, that if anything did happen, 
you know, to either of us, so that — so that we never did happen 
to meet again, you know," and now both her arms were around 
the old man's neck, and her lips were close to his ear, as she went 
on: "I want to tell you that you must never think that I did 
not love and thank you, every day of my life, for all your hard 
work for me to make me happy, and that with my last breath I 
will bless and pray for you. I could not let you go, darling 
father, to-night, without telling you this; but do not mind, for 
all may be well yet, you know." The old man tried to control 
his voice to speak, but something choked it down, and he could 
not utter a word. " Do not fear for me, darling father, and feel 
so badly," Lizzie murmured, while floods of tears ran down her 
cheeks. " Your Birdie will be brave; so do not fear. This hor- 
rid fear that haunts me to-night will pass away, and, when you 



^ 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. G31 

come to-morrow, you -will find me the same as always, you 
know. So, good-nigbt, darling father, and take care of yourself, 
for my sake." 

Not a word could Jack utter; one long, silent embrace, and he 
was making his way towards the city front, where the boat of the 
Blue Bell was awaiting him. As Lizzie now stood alone, near 
the table, with the dagger drawn from its sheath in her hands, 
there was a strange, bitter smile in her face, as she touched her 
finger to its sharp, needle-like point. Then, with a start, as if 
some horrid thought had crossed her mind, she returned it to 
its case, and hurriedly thrust it into the drawer of her work-table. 
Then she walked up and down the room with folded arms, in 
deep thought, saying to herself: 

" Yes ; he may only be trying me, and all may go right yet, as 
father says. Oh! merciful God, grant it !" 

Poor Lizzie little knew that she prayed to be allowed to share 
a merciless pirate's life. A fate a thousand and a thousand times 
worse than the worst of deaths. As she continued to walk, she 
thought aloud: 

"I will be calm, and give him no excuse. I will coax, will 
beg; and if he but openly acknowledges me his wife, I will not 
care what comes then. I am so glad that father came. Now 
that he knows all, I feel so much better. And I have wished him 
good-bye, too, if anything should happen. Oh, yes; I feel so 
much better!" 

The night was now well advanced, and Lizzie, after her usual 
devotions, retired to her bed. For long hours she sle^^t a deep, 
heavy sleep, as one does whose mind has been overtaxed with 
some absorbing grief or trouble. When she awoke, it was one 
of San Francisco's pleasantest days. The sun shone brightly 
into her little bedroom and parlor. A moment's thought recalled 
to her mind everything ; the terrible struggle before her and 
all. But now her true English courage was in her heart to face 
it, and, when she appeared at the breakfast table, she seemed to 
Miss Scott, and to all, just the same as usual. After breakfast 
she returned to her room, and made herself busy in putting every- 
thing in the neatest order. She then took uncommon care in 
making her toilet, evidently anxious to look her very best. When 
all was completed, the hour for Ward's promised visit was at 
hand. Sometimes her hands and feet were icy cold; sometimes 
they seemed all on fire. She is resolved to be calm, and now 



632 PIONEEB TIMES IN CALIEORNIA. 

stands leaning against the window, gazing into the street, lost in 
thought. She starts at every passing footfall on the wooden 
sidewalk. At last she hears the step she is listening for. It 
stops, and, as the bell rings, she trembles, and is as pale as death; 
then flushed to scarlet ; then she becomes unnaturally calm. 
Miss Scott opened the door herself, and Lizzie hears her say : 

" Oh, CajDtain, how do you do ? I am so glad you have come, 
for your friend. Miss Lawson, is expecting to see you." 

" Oh, she is, eh ! "Well, I came to see her, because I am about 
to be absent from the city for awhile; so I wanted to say good- 
bye." 

Miss Scott was about to open on him, and give him a little of 
her mind in regard to his treatment of Lizzie; but, on a second 
thought, she determined not to do so, but to leave him to the 
lady herself. So she just said: 

" You will find her in her own parlor. Captain." 

Captain "Ward stej)ped to the door, and knocked. It was at 
once opened, and Miss Scott heard Lizzie's cordial reception of 
her visitor, while he seemed to treat her in a careless, cavalier 
manner. 

" I will just go to my own room," said Miss Scott to herself; 
" and then I can hear all that passes between them, as the 
partition is only cotton cloth. I know it is not right to listen in 
this way, but in this case I am excusable; for, God knows, all I 
want is to help this poor girl out of a terrible position, and I 
must know how that rascal treats her; for I am myself going to 
expose him to her father, if he does not do what is right, for she 
will not have the courage to do it, I am afraid." 

If a good motive could excuse Miss Scott for eavesdropping, 
she undoubtedly had one, and was actuated by no other. 

" Well, Lizzie, my girl, how do you get on these times?" said 
"Ward, throwing himself into a rocking-chair. 

" Oh, first-rate. Captain ; except that I have been very lone- 
some at times. I am always so, when you stop away so long. 
Captain." 

" Oh, you flatter me, Lizzie. But Lizzie, by Jove, you look 
first-rate. Do you know that you have grown handsomer than 
ever?" 

" I am glad you think so, Captain; for you are the only one in 
the world I care to look handsome to." 

' ' None of that soft solder, Lizzie ; for I came to tell you that 
I am going away for awhile," 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. _ 633 

" To sea ?" said Lizzie, anxiously. 

"Yes, to sea; and for a good, long time, too, I rather think.'' 

" Do my father and brothers go with you?" said Lizzie, iu a 
quick, excited voice. 

" Yes ; of course they do !" 

" Oh, well, you will take me with you, too, because father told 
me you would ask me to go, and said I must go ; and of course 
I will go." 

" Oh, no, Lizzie, my girl, of course you will do nothing of 
the sort. Your old father knows nothing about it. " 

" Why! I told father that we were engaged to be married, and 
he was very glad, and said it was all right, and that he suj)posed 
you would have the ceremony performed the day we sailed; and 
he and the boys brought me some handsome wedding ornaments, 
and a beautiful dress, which I will show you." 

" I do not care to see either dress or ornaments." And, look- 
ing fiercely at the now trembling girl, he continued: " Did I 
not tell you never to tell your father or brothers anything that 
passed between you and me!" 

" But they questioned me closely, and I hated to tell them 
what was false." 

" Nonsense! You ought to be ashamed of yourself !" 

" Oh, forgive me, Captain! I will not do it again. But you will 
take me, your little, loving wife, with you, Captain ?" She gave 
her voice all the coaxing sweetness, that was natural to it in 
happy moods, and laid her hand gently on his shoulder, as she 
went on: " And you will have the ceremony performed to-day 
or to-morrow ?" As she spoke, she trembled with emotion, and 
her voice was as low as a whisper. Ward, with an impatient 
movement, shook her hand from his shoulder, as he said, in a 
rough voice he had never used to her before: 

" I will do neither the one, nor the other. Make up your mind 
to that, girl !" 

" Oh, Captain, Miss Scott told me to-day that, unless you 
married me within two days, I must leave her house; and that 
would disgrace me !" 

" How nice she is getting here in California, all at once! If 
Miss Scott does not want your money, there are plenty of board- 
ing-houses that do." 

"Oh, Captain, you do not mean to leave me and go away, be- 
fore you have the ceremony performed ?" 



634 PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFOENIA. 

"Nonsense, girl; don't put on airs, yourself. You did no^ 
really think that I intended to marry you ? You cannot be such 
a fool as that !" 

" Not marry me, Captain !" said Lizzie, looking astonished aod 
frightened. "Did you not swear to me, over and over, in the 
most solemn way, that we were as good as married in the eyes of 
God, who heard your vow of fidelity and truth to me. And that 
the exact day the ceremony was performed was of no conse- 
quence ; and that it should be performed some day, very soon !'' 
" Oh, Lizzie, you are reall}' very amusing," said "Ward, with a 
chuckling laugh. " Of course I swore all manner of things to 
overcome your fanatical scruples; but what of that ? It is a way 
we men have, as you will find out when you have a little more ex- 
perience." And he laughed in a mocking sort of a way. "No, 
Lizzie; the next chap you have to deal with you will have more 
experience." 

Lizzie grew deadly pale, and, half-gasping for breath, she 
arose from her seat, and then threw herself back again, as she 
cried out: 

" Oh, Captain! Captain! do not talk to me in that way. I 
know you do not mean what you are saying; but you will drive 
me mad if you talk so to me! No, no, no! You will not let me 
be disgraced! I know you love me; you have sworn you did; so 
I know you will pity me, and not let me be disgraced here be- 
fore them all!" 

She now dropped her head forward, resting it between her 
hands on the center-table, and, in a terribly mournful, beseech- 
ing voice, went on: 

" Oh, I could tell you something! oh, I could tell you some- 
thing! and, oh, I thought it would make you so happy!" 

Ward gave a half-frightened start, arose from his rocking- 
chair, took another seat, and, with a struggle, composed himself, 
and now regarded Lizzie with a sort of a contemptuous, careless 
smile. Oh, he comprehends the news the miserable girl wished 
to tell. That strange, mysterious news, that, when whispered by 
trembling, agitated, but joyous lips, into the ear of the young 
husband, seemr, to awaken and arouse into active life every noble 
sentiment of his nature; and, though the news be joyous, yet 
wdth it comes an awe, as though a voice from on high had an- 
nounced a mighty trust reposed in him, for which he will one day 
be held responsible. Yes; to the worthy husband it is news that 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 635 

flings out his interest in life, in country, in everything around him, 
a whole generation beyond his own, and fills his heart with over- 
flowing gratitude to God, and the most fervent love and tender- 
ness for the partner who is the messenger and bearer of the glad 
tidings. Yes; Lizzie^s words of agony are comprehended by 
Ward; and even he, the murderer and blasphemer, hears in it 
God's voice. He starts from his seat, as we have seen, looks 
around, and is uneasy for a moment, but only for a moment, for 
his heart is of stone and untouched; and, with cool contempt, 
that seems blasphemy, he dishonors the proffered trust, and^ 
with a careless smile says: 

" Oh, that is it, is it? I understand you now. Well, I will 
send you a person who will arrange all that for you!" 

And again he laughs, stands up and looks out the window, as 
though he had not much interest in what he was talking about. 
Lizzie's breath seemed to choke her, as she now struggled for 
calmness to speak. She threw herself back in her chair, her 
temples clasped tightly with both hands, her eyes wild and un- 
steady. 

" Merciful God!" she murmurs to herself, "■ help me!" as she 
drops on her knees for a last humble, touching appeal for 
mercy and compassion. Her hands are clasped in supplication; 
her voice is full of wild, earnest entreaty, as she exclaims: 

" Oh! Captain Ward, you do not mean, you cannot mean the 
wicked thing you hint at! Oh! you cannot mean murder! and, 
oh, God! such a murder! Oh! do not use such horrid language, 
or I will die at your feet! You know, that in the eyes of God, 
I am your lawful wife! Yes; you have sworn to me a thousand 
times that I was your wife; and I have always loved and hon- 
ored you as my husband, and will always so love you. Do but ac- 
knowledge me before every one, and I will be your slave as vvell 
as your loving wife! I know you did not mean the horrid, 
wicked thing you said! Tell me! oh, tell me! that you did not 
mean it! Oh! mercy! mercy! I beg it on my knees!" 

Ward, who continued to look out the window, while tapping 
the sash in a careless sort of a way, as if keeping time to his 
thoughts, now exclaimed, in a tone of impatience: 

" Pshaw! Lizzie, you are acting and talking like a fool! If you 
want to let out your relations to me, I do not care a fig. I only 
spoke for your good, and I will now tell you the whole truth, 
to show the folly of expecting me to marry you. I am going to 



636 PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 

be married this evening, or, at furthest, to-morrow evening, to 
the most charming and beautiful girl I ever laid my eyes on; and 
then I am going to leave this city for good and all. So get up, 
Lizzie, and take things as you find them, like a woman of sense; 
for nothing is more sure than that I will be married to my true 
love to-morrow evening, if not before!" 

As these words fell on Lizzie's ear, a sudden and terrible 
change came like magic on her countenance. The quiet, hum- 
ble, beseeching expression vanished, and in its place came one 
of dark defiance and of the fiercest hate. Her eyes were all fire; 
her cheeks were as pale as white marble; her lij)s were quivering 
and apart, showing her ivory teeth, set hard together. In one 
instant she was on her feet; her motions now being that of a 
stealthy cat; she was at her full height; her bosom heaved, but 
yet she did not seem to breathe; with an impatient shake of her 
head she threw back the hair from her temples, and the whole 
mass now fell loose behind her shoulders; with one more soft, 
noiseless movement she opened the drawer of her work-table and 
grasped the dagger her father had given her the night before; and 
now came hissing through her teeth close to Ward's ear: 

"You are a liar, villain, for to-morrow you will burn in 
hell!" 

As quick as a flash Ward comprehended his danger, and his 
face was to Lizzie's just in time to ward off a blow from her up- 
lifted dagger. When foiled, she stepped back, and, crouclling 
as a panther might, to gather strength for a new onset, with a 
cry of despair and rage, she bounded on her destroyer, who, 
now pale with abject fear, seized a chair to defend himself. 
She missed her blow, and, with the chair, he struck the dagger 
from her hand. Then she flew at his throat with the fury and 
strength of insanity, which, for a moment, seemed to overpower 
Ward. In the struggle, his neckkerchief, vest, shirt and all 
were torn away. With a last terrible, maniac effort, she brought 
him staggering on one knee, and, with one arm around his neck, 
she tried to hold him down, while she reached out for the fallen 
dagger; but poor Lizzie's strength was now fast on the wane, 
and, with a desperate effort, Ward freed himself from her hold. 
She sprang on him once more, but now Ward grasped her deli- 
cately formed neck, with both his hands, with a terrible iron 
grip. His thumbs sank in on her throat; she chokes; her eyes 
start open with a dead stare ; her jaw drops, blood spouts from 
her nose, and her arms fall powerless by her side. 



PlONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA, 637 

"Ward sees that she is vanquished, and, with all his might, he 
pitches her backwards from him, and, without looking to see 
the consequences, dashed out of the house. As he hurried along 
Montgomery street, he tried to conceal from view his bloody, 
torn vest and shirt, while he muttered to himself: 

" There was a Jittle more of that than I bargained for. A 
little more and she would have spoiled my wedding, after all. 
That is two escapes within two days. If I escape one more 
struggle, nothing can hurt me. The Devil is good to his own, 
they say. Yes; one more escape, and Old Nick can put up his 
bottom dollar on me. I must get old Jack and the boys on 
board at once, before they hear of this, or I might have trouble; 
but I do not fear them, anyway, I so comjDletely own them." 

When Lizzie was hurled backwards by Ward, she went against 
the center-table, which fell over, and with it she came heavily 
to the floor, striking her head with great force against the edge 
of the sofa, which cut a terrible gash in her temple. As Ward 
rushed out, Miss Scott dashed in, and was horrified at the sight 
of Lizzie lying senseless and bleeding on the floor. In answer 
to her loud cr}' for help, the hired girl and two lady boarders 
came running in. Poor Lizzie was soon laid on the bed, and 
cared for with the kindest attention. When first she came to 
her senses, she was wild and incoherent, but gradually be- 
came composed, and had a full sense of her misery. She was suf- 
fering intensely from the bruises on her head and shoulders. Miss 
Scott, to soothe the pain, bathed the injured places with lauda- 
num, which seemed to give some relief; but a raging fever 
now set in, and Lizzie became perfectly wild. Miss Scott 
grew alarmed, and left the room for a moment to send for med- 
ical aid. As she did so, Lizzie leaped from the bed, seized the 
vial of laudanum, and swallowed its contents, and then lay back 
in her bed, as if in a faint. When Miss Scott returned, she 
found her in a stupor, which, in an hour, ended in her death. 

From the time Lizzie came to her senses, until the stupor over- 
powered her, she was earnestly praying for mercy and forgive- 
ness. She called for her book of common prayer; but, finding 
she could not read it, she kissed it and laid it near her. The 
doctor Miss Scott had sent for gave a certificate that Lizzie 
Lawson died from an accidental over-dose of laudanum; and so 
it went to the public. 

Just as she expired, Johnny Lucky called, as he did every day, 
" to see," as he said, " if Miss Lizzie wanted anything." He 



638 PIONEER TIMES IN CALrFORNIA.. 

howled with wild grief when he found her dead. Miss Scott 
dispatched him immediately for the father and brothers. 

In the afternoon they arrived. Their grief was terrible to be- 
hold. They kissed her cold lips, the wound on the temple, and 
the black marks of Ward's fingers on her neck, over and over, 
while sobbing as if their hearts would break. This excessive grief 
looked the more terrible because it was rough, strong men that 
yielded to it. The father and brothers now arose from their 
crouched position, near the bed upon which Lizzie was laid out, 
and retired with Miss Scott into the sitting-room, where she 
gave them a brief account of the last terrible scene between 
Lizzie and Ward. The old man then said: 

"Thank you. Miss Scott, for all j'our good and kind ways 
to poor Lizzie; and I have one thing more to ask you. The 
boys and I have to put to sea this afternoon or to-night, but 
I will leave five hundred dollars for you in Burgoyne & Co.'s 
bank, and we want you to see that our poor Lizzie is nicely 
buried, and that she has a minister of her own religion at the 
funeral; and we want the grave nicely fixed up, you know, with 
a nice head-stone, with her name on it, all nice, like the best of 
them; for it is all I can do, any more, for my poor little Birdie." 
Then, turning to the boys, he said: " Let us go back, boys, and 
wish our poor Lizzie good-bye." 

They go in, and again they passionately kiss her cold, dead 
face. Now they kneel and hold each other's hands over the dead 
girl. But, oh! let us shut the door and stop our ears, for their 
words, spoken in that terrible hour and position, are not words 
of prayer and submission. Oh! no; in defiance of God's holy 
law, it is a frightful oath of vengeance they swear! 



CHAPTER XXV. 



A&XIETY FOR WALTER AND MINNIE ON THE TRACK. 

As John McGlynn had agreed to do, he called at the appointed 
hour at Walter's cottage, and was surprised to find neither Wal- 
ter nor his sister at home. The girl said that Mr. Wagner had 
sent a hack for his sister in the forenoon, and that neither of 
them had come back; but that a boy soon after called, and told 
her that Mr. Wagner and his sister had gone to Sacramento, and 
would not be back for two days; and that she might shut up the 
house and go to her sister's until then. 

" I cannot understand their going off in that sort of way," 
said Jane; " but I suppose it's all right; people do such strange 
things here in California." 

John went away with a strange feeling of doubL in his mind; 
so much so that he went to the Chief of Police, and told him of 
the matter, that officer said: 

" Well, I will have the house closely watched; for, if there is 
anything wrong, the rascals will come at night to gut the house." 

And so it was arranged. For two mornings McGlynn called 
on the Chief, but he rejDorted that all at the cottage remained un- 
disturbed. McGlynn now, somehow, felt himself growing ex- 
cited over the mj'stery, and could think of little else. He called 
on Father Maginnis, and was surprised to find him hardly less 
hardly less excited than he was himself. The good Father ex- 
claimed, when he heard all the girl Jane had related in regard 
to the brother and sister: 

* ' What can all this mean ? Where can they have gone ? 
What makes it so very strange is that I am attending to a matter 
of business for W^agner, and I cannot understand his going off 
without seeing me. " 

" Oh," said McGlynn, " he told me in confidence about that 
note. Was it taken up ?" 



640 tlONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 

"Yes; Captain Fitzgerald took it up, and the clerk at the 
bank told him that half an hour before a man called there, and 
wanted to jjay the note; but the clerk would not give it without 
a written or personal order from Wagner." 

" That goes to show," said John, "that this Captain Ward, 
whom Wagner thought his friend, was the real enemy." 

" I told him so, and was sure of that; and Minnie, his sister, 
fully agreed with me," said the Father. 

While McGlynn and Father Maginnis were thus comparing 
notes, Captain Fitzgerald made his appearance. He came, he 
said, to ascertain if the Father had yet seen Wagner. Now all 
three talked for some time over the mystery of the sudden disap- 
pearance of the brother and sister. The more they talked and 
discussed it, the more they all grew excited. 

" Why," said Captain Fitzgerald, " I dreamed of them all 
night; at one time Minnie was singing for me the song she sang 
the other day, at other times I thought she was my sister, and so 
I. was disturbed all night. The fancy that she was my sister 
must have come from the wonderful likeness between this Miss 
Wagner and my poor sister Ann. Ever since I saw her I keep 
thinking of my sister. Is it not strange ?" 

" Are they not relations of yours, Captain ?" said John Mc- 
Glynn. 

"Why, no, Mr. McGlynn. Why do you ask the question ?" 

" Because," said John, " their mother's name was Ann Fitz- 
gerald." 

" Ann Fitzgerald!" said the Captain, looking quite agitated, 
" How do you know that, Mr. McGlynn ?" 

" I recollect when Walter was driving a team for us, when first 
he came to California, in '49, he told me all about his mother; 
and how she came from Ireland with a family of emigrants, and 
then what a hard fight she had to get on; and how his father de- 
fended her before he ever knew her; and how they got ac- 
quainted, and were married; and I know her name was Ann 
Fitzgerald. He told me, too, how his little sister got the fifty 
dollars to enable him to come to California." 

"Oh! can it be possible," said Captain Fitzgerald, now in 
great excitement, "that their mother is really my long lost sis- 
ter? And yet it must be; Minnie is so very like her." 

"' You can depend," said Father Maginnis, " on what John 
tells you; for he knows every man's history in this city for at 
least a generation back." 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFOKNIA. 641 

" Well," said John, " there is nothing strange in such a dis- 
covery, for such are occurring every day here in California." 

' ' And they report their mother alive and well ?" said the 
Captain . 

" Oh, yes, Captain. And, by the way, I have a letter of in- 
troduction Minnie brought me from her mother," said Father 
Maginnis, rising from his seat and taking the letter from his 
desk and handing it to the Captain. 

' ' Oh ! merciful Providence ! it is my sister's handwriting, 
surely." 

" Well," said Father Maginnis, " you can soon settle the ques- 
tion, if we ever find the dear children." 

It was then agreed between McGlynn and Captain Fitzgerald 
that they should go together and work up the case to the best of 
their ability. The first place they went to was the Oriental 
Hotel; and there they were surprised to learn that Captain Ward 
had paid up his bills, given up his room and left, as the clerk 
said, for Sacramento on the afternoon of the day Walter and 
Minnie had disappeared. The clerk saw they looked excited, 
and asked them some questions. They avoided decided answers. 
The clerk said: 

" After the Captain left, the girl who makes up the rooms 
found something very strange stowed away under the bed." 

McGlynn immediately asked what it was, and the clerk brought 
out of the baggage-room a package done up in a newspaper. He 
opened it, and exhibited a shirt, vest and neckkerchief, all 
covered with blood; and the shirt was torn, and the vest had no 
buttons, being evidently pulled out. Fitzgerald became very 
much excited, but John remained appai'ently cool, as he said to 
the clerk: 

" Well, there is a little mystery we are on the hunt about, so 
I will get the Chief of Police to call and see those articles; so 
please lay them away carefully." 

They now proceeded to the office of the Chief of Police, and 
told him of the discovery of these clothes. The Chief thought 
the business looked very serious, and advised perfect secrecy, and 
promised to put his best men on to work it up. At the very out- 
set, it was discovered by the detectives, on inquiry at the Custom 
House, that the British bark Blue Bell, Captain Ward, master, 
had cleared the day before Walter's disappearance, for the Sand- 
wich Islands, and, on further inquiry, they found that the Blue 
41 



642 PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 

Bell had sailed some time during the night of the day after she 
cleared. 

"When evening came, McGlynn and a police officer took their 
stations on the wharf, to await the arrival of the Sacramento boat; 
for tbis was the day "Walter should have returned, if the story 
was true that he had gone to Sacramento. The Chief himself 
and Captain Fitzgerald went to the cottage. They found Jane 
there in great agitation and alarm. They told her they would 
remain until the hoat was reported in, and then see her safe 
home if the brother and sister did not arrive. "While Captain 
Fitzgerald sat waiting in the cottage, he looked at everything 
with the greatest interest, as he was now almost sure the two ab- 
sent ones were of his own blood. He was soon relieved of the 
last lingering doubt in this respect, from his eyes resting on a 
j^rayer-book that lay on a side table. He took it up, and, opening 
it, found, to his astonishment, his own name, written in his own 
handwriting, on the first blank page; and on the second was 
written as follows: 

"My Beloved Son Walter: I give you this i^rayer-book as you are going 
so far away from me, for it is far more precious than any I could buy with 
money. It once belonged to my poor, darling brother, who was driven by 
persecution out of poor Ireland, and I suppose lost his life among strangers. 
Always pray for him, darling sou, as well as for your devotedly attached 
mother. Ann Wagnek." 

The Captain could not restrain his emotion on reading this 
evidence of his sister's unchanged love. He arose, went out on 
the porch, and walked up and down, lost in thoughts of long, 
long ago. Soon McGlynn and the policemen came, and reported 
no arrival by the boat. 

Now the Chief took a careful survey of everything in the 
house. It was evident that the occupants had suddenly and un- 
expectedly left, as the girl had all the time stated. All Walter's 
and Minnie's clothes were there, as if in every day use; a hun- 
dred dollars in gold was found in Walter's trunk. The Chief 
took down the girl's statement in writing, which included the 
scene of Ward's proposal to Minnie, and her rejection of him. 
Jane cried bitterly all the time, exclaiming: 

" Poor Miss Minnie; oh! that villain has murdered her for not 
marrying him, as he said he would." • 

It was a dark and disagreeable night, and the most intense 
and fearful mystery seemed to pervade the whole cottage. The 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. G43 

Chief put out the lights, locked the door and sent an officer to 
see Jane safe home. The next day they continued hard at work 
on the case. They found that the carriage which took Minnie 
away was got at Orrick Johnson's, but that the party hiring it 
took no driver; so Johnson's men could give no information 
of any value. Two of the city police had unaccountably disap- 
jDeared the same day that Walter and Minnie had; and now, on 
the third day, was the first time it occurred to the Chief to con- 
nect this circumstance with the mystery. This explained and 
threw light on some points of the case, and he worked on with 
more hope. 

On the morning of the fourth day, the papers reported the 
British bark Blue Bell lost. She had, it would seem, left with- 
out a pilot sometime during the night of the day after she cleared 
at the Custom House, and had gone ashore outside the heads, was 
a total loss, and it was supposed all on board had perished. It 
was believed there was no insurance. 

When, late that day, John McGlynn and Captain Fitzgerald 
called at the office of the Chief of Police, to ascertain what pro- 
gress had been made in unraveling the mystery, the Chief said: 

"Well, yes; some progress. I have discovered enough to 
convince me that the brother and sister were both kidnapped by 
this Captain Ward and taken on board the Blue Bell; and I fear 
there is little doubt but that they were both lost with the ill- 
fated bark. I see no other solution of the mystery. So far, I 
have kept the matter from the jDublic, but there is no use in 
secrecy any longer; and, if nothing turns up to-day, I will report 
it all to the press, and see if outsiders can give us any informa- 
tion." 

McGlynn and his friend turned away disheartened and down- 
cast, with hardly a hope left for the safety of the young people 
in whom they had become so intensely interested. As they 
walked slowly along Kearny street, too sad in thoughts to speak, 
they saw a police officer they knew to be at work on the case, 
hurrying toward them. As he passed, them he said: "Come, 
come to the office of the Chief of Police; I have news, news!" 
And on he darted, and they in hot pursuit after him. 



CHAPTER XXTI. 

THE PEISONEKS — CAPTAIN WAEd's HOREID FATE. 

Now, my dear readers, let, us return to Walter and poor Min- 
nie, as we left them seated together in a boat rowed by six cut- 
throat looking- villains, under the command of Brown. Minnie's 
brave words of courage are not lost on Walter. 

" Oh, darling Minnie," he says, " if you were but safe out of 
their hands, what a Heaven it would be to me, even if my fate 
was to be thrown, with these manacles on my limbs, into the bay; 
but when I think of you in the power of that black-hearted vil- 
lain, I confess I quail to the very inmost recesses of my heart! 
And yet when I see you near me, Minnie, and looking and speak- 
ing so courageously, I too feel a confidence that God will, in 
some way, aid us." 

" Oh, Walter, we have no power of our own to escape; I do 
not see. or try to see any." Now Minnie sat up erect, and, rais- 
ing one hand up, as if to emphasize her words, she continued: 
"No; I do not pretend to see a way, but I do not dare to 
doubt but that God will open some way and save us. So, Wal- 
ter, let us be what we pretend to be — Christians and Califor- 
nians. If it is God's holy will that we should this day go to 
Him, do not fear, my brother, that He will allow our honor to be 
sullied. The reason I speak so much to you, Walter, of confi- 
dence and courage, is because I know that it is for me you fear. " 
Walter's eyes were on Minnie while she spoke, and her noble, 
courageous words and whole bearing filled him with admiration, 
and with confidence in the result of the contest before them, 
whatever it might be. 

•'' Well, Minnie, darling," he said, " while your courage lasts, 
you will, I trust in God, not see mine give way; and I will pray 
to God for faith, like you, Minnie, and that I may be able to 
realize that He is near us all the time, dear sister, as you say." 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 645 

Now they began to come in plain sight of Saucelito, and see 
the Blue Bell anchored in Richardson's bay, not far from where 
the railroad depot is now located . The afternoon's chilly wind 
was beginning to blow, a heavy, dark fog was, as usual, setting 
in from the sea, the rough-looking mountains and hills of Marin 
County around Saucelito looked terribly dark and lonesome. 
The point of land on which now stand two beautiful and charm- 
ingly located hotels, with many private residences near by, and 
the busy railroad depot was at that time without a house of any 
description, or mark of man's presence. A half mile to west- 
ward was the famous water depot, where nearly all the joioneer 
ships of California get their supply of fresh water, when about 
to put to sea. But even at this water depot there was no regu- 
lar settlement. There was erected there a huge tank, for the re- 
ception of the water, and whatever men were necessary to do the 
work of supplying the ships lived near by, and no more. The low 
hills and points of laud around Saucelito were at that time, as 
they are partly now, covered with oaks and a scrubby growth of 
timber. As Minnie and Walter were entering all these dark and 
lonesome surroundings, the jarisoners of cut-throats, Walter felt 
Minnie's arm draw close around his waist, and a shudder or 
chill seemed to shake her frame. He dropped his head until it 
rested lightly on hers, as he whispered : 

"Courage, darling Minnie, courage!" She turned her look 
on his face, and with a calm smile, said: 

" Oh, don't fear, dear Walter; it was only a chill from the 
cold fog." 

On, on, the boat dashes, through the dark, rough water. They 
are now alongside, and, in a few minutes more, on the deck of 
the vessel they so feared. Every one on board seems to obey 
Brown. He orders Walter and Minnie to be conducted to the 
cabin, and they soon found themselves alone. In a few minutes 
more, Brown makes his appearance, and says: 

"Mr. Wagner, Captain Ward may not be on board for two 
hours yet. The cook has some dinner all prepared, and I would 
advise you and your sister to eat of it; for, after all, you and the 
Captain may come to some compromise; and, it may be, part 
friends. Who knows?" He paused, and Walter said, with his 
eyes on Minnie's face: 

" Are we to be permitted to eat alone?" 
" Certainly; that is what I meant." 



646 PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 

"Then we Avill be obliged," said Walter, without looking 
toward Brown. 

Now a disagreeable-looking young man, whom Walter at once 
recognized as the boy who brought the note from Macondray & 
Co. the morning of the forgery, entered with some broiled fowl, 
vegetables, and a bottle of claret wine. They ate but sjDaringly, 
though each urged the other to eat; but they were under too in- 
tense an excitement to have much appetite. 

About four o'clock, they heard a bustle on deck, and Minnie's 
heart sank, for she knew their hour of trial had come; but she 
almost at once recovered herself, and as Ward entered the cabin 
she had nothiug but proud scorn on her lips as she sat near Wal- 
ter, with her arms folded across her breast. 

" Good afternoon, Walter; good aftei'noon, Miss Minnie," 
said Ward, throwing himself on the sofa; and, without waiting 
for any recognition of his salutation, he continued: " Walter, 
my friend, I was sorry to have had to order those little incon- 
veniences put on your limbs; but if we come to terms they shall 
be removed at once, and I shall make any and every reparation 
for the indignit}' in my power." 

" Please to state your intentions with regard to my sister and 
myself," said Walter in a firm voice. 

"Ah; that is coming right to business. Well, that is our 
California way, and the best way of proceeding. I hate a round- 
about way of doing business. Well, Walter; that was a close 
shave you made yesterday; if I had been sis inches further be- 
hind, that knife you broke in the door would have ended my 
career." 

" My only regret is that it did not. But go on and tell us 
your intentions, sir. The less I talk with you the better I feel." 

"All you say is natural, but friend Walter," and here Ward arose 
from his seat and walked close to the brother and sister, while a 
bitter, sardonic smile spread over his face, "be cautious; take 
my advice, and do not be too short in your s^Dcech; for you know 
you are now in my power out here in this ship; and what is far 
better, this little beauty here is just as much in my power as 
you are." And, as Ward spoke, he put his hand under Minnie's 
chin before she saw his intention. She instantly knocked his 
hand away with the hardest blow she could give, and jumped to 
her feet. Walter, too, started to his feet, saying: 

" Coward! vou dare not, if I had not these irons on!" 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 647 

"Ward shrank back, and laughed a mocking laugh, saying : 

" Oh, well; I will not bother you until you decline m}"^ propo- 
sition. Only, 3'ou must take my proposition in a business way, 
and accept or reject it. I will now tell you what I will do if you 
accej)t it; and then, if you wish, I will tell you what to expect if 
you reject it. I Avant Mis3 Minnie Warner to marry me; and, if 
she consents, we will go from here to the Bay of Monterey, and 
I will send on shore for the priest of that place to perform the 
ceremony; and until the ceremony is performed she shall be 
treated like a queen under your own eyes. I will then, or now, 
if you both consent here to-uight, give yon twenty thousand dol- 
lars in gold to start business with in San Francisco, while I will 
trade on the coast with the ship, and neither of you shall ever 
have any cause to complain of me as a man or a husband." 

Walter answered: " Set us both free on shore in San Fran- 
cisco, and we will take that proposition under consideration, 
and give you a respectful answer; and we will pledge ourselves 
never to reveal your vile act of kidnapping us to-day." 

" Wagner, do not put me up for a fool. I have you now where 
I have a fair show of making good terms, and I will not relin- 
quish my advantage, you may be perfectly sure. Perhaps you 
might now like to hear what I will do if you reject my offer. But, 
before I tell that, I want a ' Yes ' or a ' No ' to the proposition 
I made you. You know. Miss Minnie, that when I saw you last 
I told you I would pursue you in the future with deadly hate; 
but if you and friend Walter accept my proposition, I take all 
that back, and I will swear to love you forever more. Yes; to 
love you as I do now, while I look on you; for I never loved a 
woman before as I lope you; I cannot shake it off". Yes, I can- 
not live without you, and have you I will, one way or the other; 
so say the word, ' Yes ' or ' No.' 

" Only I am in your power, I will tell you that, no matter what 
the consequences may be, if we are to die, roasted alive, we would 
not accept your proposition." 

" Is that your answer, too ?" said Ward, in a bitter tone, turn- 
ing to Minnie. 

"There are no torments ever yet invented I would not go 
through before I would accept such a degrading proposition." 

" Well, well, we shall see, dear Minnie, how you will like the 
choice you have made; for now I will tell you what I will do if 
you do not change your mind before night. I will have the mar- 



I 



648 PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 

riage ceremony performed here, in a rough way, perhaps, by old 
Jack, my first mate, this very night, and your good brother here 
shall look on and enjoy thescene; for, as sure as you are a living 
woman, you shall be my bride this very night." 

" I do not fear you, monster as you are! Grod is here near us!" 
said Minnie. 

" Oh, I will show you all about that, this very night. Miss Min- 
nie; and if you give me too much trouble, you know, I will 
ornament the yard-arm with this brother of yours. So you will 
have to be moderate, you know, if you want to save him." 

While Ward spoke, he let his dark, wolfish eyes glare on Min- 
nie with the most fiendish look Minnie now sat close up to Wal- 
ter, with her arm around his waist, and her head leaning against 
his shoulder. 

" Yillain, thief and robber that you are!" said Walter, " talk 
no more. Your words are as bad as your actions can be." 

" Oh, no; Mr. Walter Wagner, you are not a good judge of 
that yet. To-morrow you will be a good judge." And here 
Ward chuckled his frightful laugh. "Yes, Walter; as I told 
you yesterday, your sister will bag for marriage yet, and I may 
then be in the humor to refuse it." 

The sister and brother made no answer, but their lips moved, 
as if in prayer to Grod, while their eyes were turned on each 
other. 

" Consider this matter, friend Walter. Consider it well ! I 
am in a humor to be friendly; for the fact is, I am desperately in 
love, and I hate to get into bad temper. You never saw me in a 
bad temper, Walter, my boy." And Ward gave out a mocking 
laugh, as he continued: " And if you ever do see me in a bad 
temper, the chances are you will never see that manner of mine a 
second time. Oh, yes ; that once will be enough for you. And 
I would advise Miss Minnie, if she loves you, never to let that 
humor come on. Oh, no; she had better never let it come on! 
But excuse me for a moment; I have to give some orders on 
deck." 

And now the brother and sister found themselves alone . The 
first impulse was to embrace each other. Walter raised his 
shackled arms over Minnie's head, and, dropping them to her 
waist, drew her to his bosom in a wild excitement, while he 
kissed her over and over, as he murmured: 

" Darling ! darling !" 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFOENIA. 649 

Minnie returned his embrace, and whispered back, in a firm 
voice, while her breath came fast and hot against Walter's cheek: 

"Oh, darling brother, do not give way! All may depend, 
you know, on our courage and presence of mind." 

Minnie's words came just in time, and Walter made a desper- 
ate efi"ort to recover his self-control, and, disengaging her, he said 
in a composed voice : 

" Yes, yes, Minnie; what you say is true. I will be firm, and 
presence of mind may save us yet; but these terrible shackles 
will unman me if I do not keep a constant watch upon myself." 

" Now, Walter darling, I will tell you that after I read that 
forged note asking me to come immediately to you, I never 
susj)ected the forgery, for the resemblance to your writing was 
perfect. " 

" Yes; perfect," said Walter. 

" No, I never had a doubt in regard to the note; but a sort of 
apprehension seized me, I knew not why," and here her voice 
sank to a whisper in his ear, " which caused me to place Uncle 
John's dagger in my bosom. I know how to use it, you know; 
he showed me, as I believe I told you before." 

Here Minnie looked all around the cabin, and was going to 
draw the dagger from her bosom; but Walter stopped her, and 
whispered in her ear: 

" Be careful; there may be eyes or ears near us, darling. So 
be careful not to put your hand near where the dagger is." 

" You are right, Walter. Well, what I was going to say was 
this: That the moment they attempt to take me away fi'om you, 
I will pretend to hesitate and half yield, and in that way get 
Ward off his guard, and then I will use it, Walter, and trust to 
God for the result." 

Walter, in the same whispering way, said: 

" That will be the best way, darling, for you to act. You 
know the place to strike at?" 

" Oh, yes; Uncle John showed me." 

As Minnie spoke, her frame shook with a shudder, but she re- 
mained firm. 

" God save you, darling sister, from the necessity; but risk 
anything, and do anything, before you let them take you away 
from me; and even with these shackles on, I may help and be of 
some use to you in the struggle." 

"Here he comes! Oh, God! assist us and give us both 



650 PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFOR^iIA. 

courage and faith," was Minnie's last whisper, as Ward again 
appeared. 

When Ward reached the deck, on leaving Walter and Minnie, 
he called out: 

" Is Mr. Lawson yet on board ?" 

"Yes, sir," said the second-mate; " he and his sons have just 
come on board." 

" Here I am, Captain," said Jack, stepping forward. 

" Where have you been, Mr. Lawson, all the day ? You should 
have been here attending to your duties as first officer of this 
ship, sir. I looked for j^ou on shore, but I could find nothing of 
you, sir." 

" Well, Captain, you must excuse me; for, it being the last 
day on shore, you see, my boys had to get an outfit for them- 
selves, and visit their sweethearts for the last time, you know; 
and I hurried them all I could, and we did not even take time 
to go and see Lizzie, as we intended to do." 

As Jack said this, Ward started, and his frame visibly shook a 
little. And Jack's eyes fell on him with a peculiar, wild gleam; 
but, letting them at once drop on the deck, he ran on in a 
careless tone: 

"But I promised the boys, if you put off sailing for one day 
more, I would go on shore with them and spend a half day or 
so with Lizzie; for she will be so lonesome, you know. Captain, 
at our going away." 

" Oh, well; that is all right, Jack; and if I do defer sailing, 
you and the boys shall have half a day on shore to spend with 
Lizzie. I left her a handsome present of money in the hands of 
Macondray & Co. just before I came on board; so she will have 
a good time while we are away." 

" Oh, yes. Captain; I have no doubt she will; that is all right. 
And I hear that you have trapped a handsome piece for the 
voyage." And Jack gave a meaning, chuckling laugh, intended 
to make the Captain think he approved of the little maneuver. 

" Oh, yes. Jack; I have; and I will have to get you to jDcrform 
the marriage ceremony this evening, as you have a right by law 
to do, you know at sea, under certain circumstances; and one of. 
these circumstances is, when the Captain is the man to be mar- 
ried, as in this ca^e." 

" Oh, we will have some fun, then," said Jack, with the same 
peculiar laugh. ." Is it to be to-night, Captain ?" 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA, 651 

" Oh, yes; this very night." 

" Is she willing, or are we to have the fun of making her your 
wife whether she likes it or not ?"' 

" Oh, she is as obstinate as a mule, and as fiery as a wildcat." 

" And her brother is on board, they say ?" said Jack. 

" Yes, Jack; he is, in irons, sitting with her in the cabin now." 

" And will he not advise her to yield to save himself?" 

" No, Jack; the fellow is such a fool that I believe he would 
tell her to hold out if we were roasting him to death." 

" Oh, he is that sort, is he ? Well, well; hoAv strange. Well, 
we will see this evening; for you must not lose your game, Cap- 
tain, under anj^ circumstances." 

" Thank you. Jack. And now get the boat ready to go on 
shore to dig up that box, you know; and give me four good men 
and a small crowbar, a spade, and a rope to rig the box with, so 
that we can bring it over the hills the same way we took it up, 
you recollect." 

" Aye, aye, sir; all will be ready in fifteen minutes," and Jack 
left, and the Captain returned to the cabin. As Ward entered 
the cabin, he said: 

" Now I have to go on shore here at Saucelito, on some busi- 
ness. I will be absent for perhaps three hours, and while I am 
gone I want you both to take what I have said into considera- 
tion; and I advise you not to be such fools as to hope for a mira- 
cle to save you. The days of miracles, you know, have passed; 
and I defy any power, above or below, to come between you and 
me, Minnie. I told you our fates were linked together, you know ; 
and now you see I was right. I felt it in my bones ever since I 
saw you. I have told you what I will do if you hold out, and as 
sure as we are in this cabin I will do just as I have said. You 
cannot and will not escape me; but, if you accej)t my proposition, 
I will leave nothing undone to make everything agreeable to 
you. So have your minds made up when I come back." 

While thus addressed, Walter and Minnie remained seated as 
before, with a composed, unchanged look; but made no reply 
whatever. Just then Brown appeared, saying: 

" Did you send for me. Captain ?" 

"Yes, Mr. Brown; I want you to stay here on guard." And, as 
Ward spoke, he unbuckled the belt from around his waist, in 
which hung a revolver and bowie-knife, and, handing it to Brown, 
continued: " I see you are unarmed; j)ut this on, I will get one 



652 PIONEEK TIMES IN CALITORNIA. 

from Jack; and let there be no communication "witli our prison- 
ers here until I come back, under any pretence; and you are to 
treat them with the utmost respect." 

So saying", he left the cabin. As he ascended the hatchway, 
he said to himself: "Why, old Jack is in great good humor, 
though he knows that I have the proud Yankee bird caged on 
board, and he actually agrees to help me to make her yield. 
What a fool Brown was to think that such as he and his boys 
had feelings worth regarding. Well, everji:hing succeeds with 
me to a charm. If she holds out, I will have a chance to outdo 
the most villainous acts ever committed by my worthy villainous 
father, and old Sir John will have the honor I have always prom- 
ised him, of being the grandfather of the greatest rascal of mod- 
ern times." 

" Please, Captain, the boat is all ready," said the second mate. 

Ward now, in great good spirits, threw himself on the side- 
ladder, and descended into the boat before he saw who manned 
it. He half started as he now saw Jack himself, his two boys, 
Ike and Mike, Yellow Dick and the boy Johnny Lucky, as the 
crew. A suspicion shot through his mind, and his first imjDulse 
was to leap back on the ladder and call for another crew; but 
the boat was instantly shoved out by a quick movement of Ike's, 
and he, disliking to betray fear or suspicion, and perceiving that 
none of the crew were armed, he quietly took his seat as helms- 
man, and said in a careless way: 

" Why did yovi come yourself, Lawson ?" 

" Oh, Captain," said Jack, in a half-confidential tone, "the boys 
here and I have a small matter of money buried under a certain 
tree that we want to get, so we had to come." 

" Oh, that is all right," said Ward, feeling now entirely re- 
lieved, though he felt a little disagreeable as he recollected that 
he had forgotten to arm himself, as he intended to do when he 
left the cabin. 

They soon reached their destination, and all jumped on shore. 
Lawson said to Yellow Dick: 

"Stay in charge of the boatj Dick, until we come back to 
you." 

" Aye, aye, sir," answered Dick. 

The place where they landed \vas a little cove, a short distance 
west of the common landing used at that time for the water 
depot. Captain Ward took the lead, following a trail that led 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 653 

around and over a low hill to the west, then down into a little 
valley well grown up with small timber, through which a stream 
of the purest spring water came dashing its way to the bay from 
the steep hillside. Across this valley Ward led the way, and uj) 
the steep ascent on the other side, until he came opposite a little 
growth of scrub oak timber that stood on a point of land making 
boldly out into the bay. Here he stopped, and, consulting a 
memorandum book, he said: 

"Yes, this must be the place; let us look for the old oak 
tree." 

Walking through the small timber, they came to an open spot, 
covered with a mat of half-dried grass, entirely clear of timber, 
except one old oak tree. This tree grew on the very outer edge 
of the cliff. It had partly yielded, it would seem, in its strug- 
gles with the ever-prevailing winds from the west; for it was 
bent over eastward almost to the ground, and its upj)er side was 
without a branch, and those on the lower side were nearly desti- 
tute of leaves. At this point the cliff was perhaps two hundred 
feet high above the water of the ba^', which rushed foaming 
against its base all day and all night, as the ocean tide set in 
and out, in obedience to the laws that govern the great waters 
of the earth. A huge rock seemed to shelve out over the water, 
and form a foundation for this little spot of open, grassy land, 
upon which Ward and his men now stood. The view of the bay 
and surroundings far out to sea from here was magnificent be- 
yond description. As the party gained the opening, Ward 
stopped short, saying: 

" Yes, we are right. There, yonder, is the very tree described 
in my memorandum." 

" You are right. Captain; and it is under that old oak our lit- 
tle matter of money is buried. Come over. Captain, and see us 
take it from its hiding-place." 

" No, no," said Ward in an impatient, hurried voice; "do that 
yourself, after we have got through. Somehow I hate the sight 
of this place to-night; to me it looks horribly cheerless and cold. 
What Brown admires about it I don't see; for that fright- 
ful precipice is all that I can see, and I am near enough to that 
now to suit me; so let us go back here into this timber and dig 
up the box while we have daylight, and be gone from this cursed 
looking place." 

As Ward, spoke he turned back to lead the way into the tim- 



G54 PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 

ber. It must liave been that some presentiment of impending evil 
oppressed him; for he looked pale and anxious. His voice had in 
it a tremulous tone, his motions were quick and nervous, while 
his eyes gleamed from side to side, as if in search of apprehended 
danger. A look of disappointment passed between Jack and his 
boys when Ward declined to go to the edge of the cliff as Jack 
had asked him to do; but they followed him into the timber 
without speaking. 

"Aye, here is the spot, sure enough," said "Ward, pointing to 
a little mound well covered with grass; " and here are the four 
trees marked just as noted in my book; so off with jour coats 
and to work lively, as I want to get out of this dismal place be- 
fore dark." 

Ike and Mike obeyed without hesitation, and fell to work with 
a will. Soon the box came to view. Ward and Jack stood close 
to each other with their eyes fixed on the work. Ike now threw 
the crowbar, with which he had been trying to move the box, 
behind him and behind his father al.so, and dropped on his 
knees as if to examine the box, while he exclaimed: 

" Look, Captain Ward; I fear it has been opened and robbed!" 

Ward stooped to look, and, as he did so, Jack, with a move- 
ment as noiseless and stealthy as a wildcat when preparing to 
spring on its prey, picked up the crowbar, and, whirling it in 
the air, made a blow at Ward's head. The pirate's quick eye 
caught the shadow of the uplifted weapon, just in time to move 
his head and receive the terrible iron on his left arm, breaking it 
short off at the elbow. Now all three men sprang on Ward. He 
is borne down to the ground; but with almost superhuman 
strength he throws back his assailants with terrible blows from 
his only arm. The Lawsons are covered with their own blood, 
flowing from nose and mouth. There is no outcry heard from 
the terrible struggle — ^nothing but the quick, hard breathing and 
hoarse growling sound, sometimes taking form in words of mut- 
tered imprecation and hate. The contest is as noiseless as that 
of bulldogs in their fiercest fights. Ward is dragged, foot by 
foot, towards the cliff. Every yard of the ground is marked by 
the struggle. Nearer and nearer to the fearful precipice they 
approach. Johnn}', wild with excitement, holds the rope in 
his hands, while he jumps up and down, and makes all sorts of 
contortions, in sympathy with the changes in the struggle. Now 
the cliff is almost gained. Ward is on his face, held down by 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALtFORNtA. 655 

all three men. His right arm is stretched oat before him, while 
the fleshless, red bone of the broken one protrudes through 
sleeve and all, and covers the grass with blood. 
" The rope, Johnny, the rope!" cries Jack. 
Quick as a flash, Johnny hands it to Ike, with the noose all 
prepared. Ike ju.mps from his position, slips the noose over 
Ward's head, and stoops while he fastens the end of the i-ope to 
the butt of the oak tree. Ward, who seems to- have been gath- 
ering all his strength for one mighty effort, gives a sudden 
bound, and clears himself of both Jack and Mike. In an in- 
stant more, he seizes Ike by the belt on his waist, and now, with 
his only arm, he holds him over his head, crj'ing out: 

" Back, you murderers, or he goes over the cliff !" 

Jack and Mike utter a fearful yell, and spring on hira. Then 
Ike goes whirling over Ward's arm from the cliff. Now Ward 
fastens a despairing death grip on the Lawsons, and all three 
seem sure to go together over the cliff. But no; by kicks and 
blows they force Ward over the edge. Then he grasps the rope 
near the end fastened to the tree, and slides slowly down half 
its length, until, sailor-like, he clasps it with his feet, and, 
using his teeth as a second hand, he begins to ascend again. 
Jack and Mike stand over him, watching, in their wild, savage 
fury, his desperate struggle for life. Now his ascent is stopped; 
for his teeth give way, and blood streams from his mouth. He 
looks up and sees Jack above him, with a fragment of rock in 
his hand, and about to hurl it upon him. In a hoarse, half- 
stifled voice, he cries out: 

"Jack, take me uj), and I will marry Lizzie, and make you all 
rich!" 

" Ah, villain, Lizzie is dead, and I swore to send you to her; 
for she is waiting for you to fling you into the infernal regions, 
where you belong! Yes; here is Lizzie's answer and the message 
she sends you!" 

While Jack sjooke, Ward's eyes were fixed, staring on the rock 
in Jack's hands, and his eyes and head never moved as the ter- 
rible messenger of death came, with unerring aim, rushing 
through the air. Then the skull crashes in, the eyes leaji from 
their sockets, the blood}^ jaw drops and the hideous, mutilated 
mass falls to the full length of the rope with a horrid thud ! 

It is almost night. The fog is n<^)W dense and dark, and the 
wind is rushing with a lonesome moan through the timber on 



656 PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA 

the cliffs around Saucelito, as Jack's yell of triumph sounds over 
the dead, mutilated body of Lusk. Hark! "What scream or 
shiiek is that that now pervades the whole atmosphere ? Can 
it come from some sea-fowl, frightened by Jack's shout of fran- 
tic triumph? Or can it be; oh, can it be, that the spirit of poor 
Agnes "Ward is hovering near, and now shrieks as her fiend-child 
is launched into a frightful eternity? Oh, poor Agnes Ward! 
can it be that that frightful mass of mutilated humanity, swing- 
ing there in that terrible death, is the growth of the poor little 
infant you hushed to sleep in the dismal London garret with 
your mournful song? The same poor little limbs you saved 
from being cold by wrapping them in miserable garments taken 
from your own shivering body ? The same you fed when you 
had to starve yourself ? The same whose little heart, so inno- 
cent then, beat close to yours, throb for throb, as its little form 
lay on your breast in the long, dark nights, as you watched for 
the dawning of the morning that was to bring no hope to you ? 
Yes, poor Agnes; it is the growth of the child about whose 
future, when all else was lost and dark, and dismal in your 
terrible, weary way, one solitary ray of hope did seem to loom up 
in the distance to induce j'ou to struggle to live. 

Oh, society, society! are not your ways, modes and worldly 
teachings responsible for this woeful scene of here to-day at 
Saucelito ? 



CHAPTER XXVII. 



4.T SEA IN AN OPEN BOAT RESCUED BY DE FOREST. 

After Ward had left the cabin to go on shore at Saucelito, 
Walter and Minnie remained seated together in a terrible state 
of suspense, yet careful to show no sign of fear to Brown's eye. 
They seldom spoke, and then in whispers. Brown walked up 
and down, but did not attempt to address them. Time passed, 
and it grew almost dark. Brown ordered the cabin lamps lit; 
he took out his watch, and began to look very uneasy, and once 
said aloud: " I cannot understand what detains the Captain so 
long." Then an undefined hope came to the brother and sister; 
but so faint that they did not dare to express it to each other. 
Brown grew more and more uneasy. He went to the upper steps 
of the cabin stairway, and called for the second mate. 

"Where," he asks, "is Mr. Lawson?" 

" With the Captain, on shore, sir." 

" Oh," said Brown, with a start, " and who are the other men 
with the Captain and Mr. Lawson?" 

" Mr. Lawson's two sons, sir, Yellow Dick and the boy Johnny 
Lucky." 

Brown grew deadly pale, and became so faint that he had to sit 
down on the stairway. The second mate, not observing his 
agitation, retired. 

" Oh, it must be," murmured Brown; " old Jack has him sure. 
Yellow Dick is Jack's cousin, and Johnny Lucky would cut any 
fellow's throat for them. Was the Captain mad when he left 
with such a boat's crew ?" 

Just as Brown got back to the cabin, he heard the noise of a 
boat alongside. He again turned deadly pale, and threw him- 
self on the sofa, repeating over and over: 

" Oh, he's got him, he's got him, and I am lost!" 

Now he plainly hears men leap on deck, and an order given 

out in Jack's voice, with the answers from the second mate, 
42 



658 PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA, 

" Aye, aye, sir." Their feet are on the stairway, and Brown is 
almost in a faint. Minnie and Walter observe all this, and hope 
grows in their hearts in spite of themselves; but Minnie, never- 
theless, gasps and trembles, and Walter whispers to her: 
"Faith in God, Minnie; courage!" 

" Oh, yes, darling; that tremor is over, thank God !" And she 
smiles in her brother's face and is a woman once more, ready to 
face any danger. 

She averted her eyes from the stair-way when she heard the 
steps, and so did Walter, and now they are surprised and startled 
by hearing Jack's voice close to them, and, looking up, they see 
him, and three stout men, standing before Brown with revolvers 
in hand, while Jack says: "Mr. Brown, sir, throw up your 
arms!" 

Brown obeys, crying out piteoasly: " Oh, Jack, spare my life, 
and I will serve you like a slave. I had nothing to do with 
Lusk's treachery to i)Oor Lizzie." 

"Hold, villain, hold! Do not dare to speak her name again, 
or I will first cut out your tongue and then cast you ironed into 
the sea!" 

Now Brown cringed to the floor with abject fear. He tried to 
speak; he tried to beg for life, and his jaws opened and shut, 
but not a word could the wretch articulate. 

" Take that belt off him, Mike," said Jack. 

Brown, with trembling hands, unbuckled the belt himself and 
handed it to Mike. 

" Where is the key to those shackles?" continued Jack, point- 
ing to Walter, while he looked at Brown. 

Still trembling. Brown drew the key from his pocket and gave 
it to Mike. 

" Take those shackles off, Mike, and put them on this fellow." 

"Aye, aye, sir," answered Mike, as he approached Walter, 
who now began to yield to a feeling of hope that was like a 
dream, and Minnie could hardly contain herself, there was such 
a rush of hope and joy about her heart. She did not yet under- 
stand how it was that Ward was not to come back, and that 
Jack seemed to have command of everything. Nor did Walter 
exactly comprehend it, and they both looked on in amazement, 
sometimes doubting if they really were awake. 

Jack continued: "As soon as you have the irons on, take the 
fellow and put him in the hold, all secure, until I have time to 
attend to his case." 



tlONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 659 

"Oil, mercy, mercy, Jack! I have $10,000, and you can have 
it all, if you will let me live aud go on shore, and I will never 
betray you." 

"Away with the howling hound!" cried Jack, fiercely; and, 
moaning and begging, aud shackled with the irons taken from 
Walter, Yellow Dick and Mike dragged Brown up the stairs and 
out of hearing. Now Jack turned to Walter, and said: " Young 
man, can you row a boat?" 

" I think so," said Walter, 

" Would you venture to attempt, in this dark night, to row a 
boat to San Francisco, if I give you one to take your sister 
there ?" 

" I will try, anyway, and be most grateful to you." 

" As to your gratitude, young man, it is of no consequence 
to me now. I feel that my career is over. I have done things 
in my life that it will not do to even talk of. I am sorry for 
them, and I will do as poor Lizzie always wanted me to do — I 
will pray every day to God and the Savior to forgive me. Do 
you know, lady," continued Jack, turning to Minnie, " I once 
had a daughter as dear to me as you are to your brother ? I 
educated her like a lady. I had her taught the religion of my 
country. She looked to me so sweet and beautiful, and I only 
lived to love her. I used to dream of her all night, and every 
day I would laugh to myself when I thought of her. Well, 
well; this morning the man I had served all my life murdered 
her. Yes; Lusk — ^or Captain Ward, as we used to call him 
here — murdered her, after first proving false to her; and, having 
no power to get the law to punish him, we hanged him this 
evening by the neck from the cliff yonder. And my poor boy 
Ike lost his life in the struggle; for we had a fearful fight." 
Here Jack stopped, shuddered, and turned away for a moment, 
as if to get command of his voice. After pacing up and down 
the cabin for a minute, he continued: " I once loved this man 
Lusk better than I loved any one in the world not of my own 
blood. I served him in every way, without asking the why or 
the wherefore; and, in return, he murdered my darling pet, my 
sweet child! But he is dead, on the cliff yonder, and I have no 
more to say of him." 

Minnie said, in her own sweet voice: " I wish I could say a 
word that would give you any comfort." 

" Comfort! Oh, no, lady; no comfort for me! My last hope 



060 PIONEEE TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 

of that has gone ! But T have a great wish that God would for- 
give me, as Lizzie said He would; for I want to be where she 
is when I die. Can you tell me what I ought to do, lady?" 

Then Minnie, in the gentlest way, told him what she thought 
he ought to do, and how he ought to pray. He listened atten- 
tively, and promised to do as she told him. 

" One thing more I will ask of you to do, for Lizzie's sake," 
said Minnie. 

" And what can that be ?" said Jack, looking surprised. 

"T will ask you to spare the life of that wretched man 
Brown." 

" Why," said Jack, " that was the fellow that helped Lusk in 
his game about poor Lizzie, and to trap you and your brother. 
Do you know that ?" 

"Yes; I know it all. But the Christian religion requires us 
to forgive all our enemies, if we expect to be forgiven our- 
selves." 

Jack hesitated, and then said: " Would Lizzie agree with 
you?" 

" Most certainly she would." 

" Well, then, I will spare his life; for I want to do what you 
think Lizzie would wish me to do. And now I have a request 
to make of you." 

" Well," said Minnie, " I am glad of that," 

" I want you to go to Miss Scott's boarding-house, and find 
where Lizzie is buried. And I want you to go yourself aud put 
some flowers and little ornaments around the grave for me." 
And then the old man's voice choked, and for some time he did 
not sj)eak. Minnie, in earnest language, promised to attend to 
the grave. 

"Not only now," she said, "but on every Christmas eve." 
A promise she never forgot to this day. 

Jack now turned to Walter, saying: " I will send Johnny 
Lucky on shore with you, and he will be of some help in work- 
ing the boat. He is a good sailor, and Mr. Wagner, if it comes 
in your way, give him a helping hand to get employment and 
the like. I will give the poor boy some money to start with, and 
I want you to advise him to be good, as Lizzie used to do. " 

Here the old man again paused, and continued: "I would 
keep you vintil daylight, but we have to weigh anchor right off 
and put to sea; for I must avoid some ten men, who are to be 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 661 

liere some time to-night, and who are particular friends of Lusk 
and might give me trouble when they found what had happened. 
The men now on board are almost all my friends. I will now 
order you something to eat while I get the boat ready. You had 
better eat, because you have a hard row, and perhaps a hard 
night, too, before you." 

As Jack spoke, he left the cabin, and the brother and sister 
again found themselves alone. And now they yielded to their 
first impulse, and poured out their thanks to the Almighty Giver 
of all good for their deliverance. Eatables were now before 
them, and with a good heart they ate, to give them strength for 
the work before them. 

In a few minutes Jack announced the boat ready, saying to 
"Walter: " I have put a demijohn of water on board, plenty of 
hard bread, three blankets, and something else that you will 
find when daylight comes, that belongs of right to you; so that 
if you do miss your reckoning to-night, you will not starve or 
freeze." 

And now old Jack stooped down and whispered to Minnie: 
"Pray for me, for I have no one on earth to do it, now that 
Lizzie is dead." • 

" You shall have my poor prayers as long as life lasts," an- 
swered Minnie, as she stepped on the ladder and committed her- 
self to the protection of a stout sailor, who descended it with 
her and placed her in safety in the boat. Then Walter took his 
place at the oars, and Johnny Luck}', with a lantern and a 
small pocket compass he got from Jack, took his place at the 
tiller. The night was dark, dismal and foggy, and, manned 
as the boat was, the situation of our friends was truly dan- 
gerous; but this they did not see. No; all they thought of now 
was their wonderful deliverance from the power of Lusk. They 
did not fear to face the danger of death in an ordinary way. 
Walter, too, was confident that he could row. the little boat 
with perfect ease. Jack had instructed Johnny as to the course 
the boat should hold to make San Francisco; so Walter did 
not fear tke result, and with a light heart shoved off, and was 
soon out of hearing of the terrible bark they had that day 
approached with such fear. Johnny Lucky was a strange act- 
ing and looking boy. He had always a wild, scared look about 
him. He seldom spoke, except when compelled to by the busi- 
ness in hand. Then he said but little; not a word more than 



662 PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 

was necessary. There were times, however, when he seemed to 
wake from this reticence, and to become bright and half-wild 
with spirits. When in these moods, he would tell all sorts of 
stories of his childhood and boyhood, of the fearful scenes he 
had witnessed at sea on pirate ships, and on land among robbers 
and cannibals. Some of these stories were so improbable and 
fearful that few believed them, and supposed that when Johnn}' 
got into any of these moods he had a touch of insanity about 
him; but many people believed them, and listened with avidity. 
It is in the recollection of many of us to have heard Johnny 
talking in one of these wild moods about the death of the pirate 
Captain at the hands of his first mate, at Saucelito. None of 
his strange stories seemed to excite him so much as this one. 
He would almost froth at the mouth as he described the fearful 
scene, and then suddenly seem to sicken, grow faint, and drop 
into his wonted, half- stupid way. He was about seventeen 
years old at the time of which we are now speaking. His com- 
plexion was sallow; he was tall and lithe. He professed to 
know nothing of his parentage, race or country, but believed his 
parents to have been murdered off the coast of South America, 
and that he fell into the pirates' hands in that way, as his first 
recollections were connected with pirates and pirates' ships. 

Minnie sat in the bow of the boat, with one of the Blue Bell's 
new red blankets, which Jack had given them, wrapped around 
her. For the first half hour, no one spoke, though Walter's 
and Minnie's thoughts were all wild and joyous at their recov- 
ered freedom. Then Johnny, in a quick, sharp tone, said: 

" You let your oars go too deep, Captain; you never will hold 
out that way." 

Walter corrected the fault without speaking. Then, in a little 
while, Johnny covered his lamp with his handkerchief, so as to 
hide its light, and dropping on his knees peered close down over 
the water as far as he could see in the darkness, and exclaimed: 

" The fog is lifting a little, and I think I can see land, and I 
think it is Alcatraz Island, and that the tide is taking us out 
towards the Golden Gate. We must make to the east of the 
island, Captain, or we may get out to sea." 

" Well, Johnny, you keep her heading right and I will do my 
best," said Wiilter. 

" Aye, aye, sir," came from Johnny. 

In a few minutes more, Johnny is again on his knees, peering 
over t'lo water, and now exclaims : 



PIONEEB TIMES IN CALIFOKNIA, 



663 



" Oh, if I am not mistaken about that land being Alcatraz, we 
are losing instead of gaining." Then, rising quickly, he said: 
*' Lady, come and take my place; I will show you how to handle 
the tiller and look at the comioass, and I will take the other pair 
of oars." 

Minnie instantly, with Walter's help, was by Johnny's side. 
He showed her what to do, and Minnie at once comprehended 
her duty. 

And now Johnny threw himself into a seat in front of Walter; 
threw out the other pair of oars and worked in time with Walter. 
Now the boat seemed to fly through the water, and so they 
worked for j)erhaps twenty minutes. Walter said : 

'* Look again, Johnny." 

In an instant he was on his knees, and exclaimed: 

"Oh, we cannot make it. Our only chance now will be to 
head our boat a point or two to the westward and try to make 
the main land east of the Fort. If we can catch that point, it is 
as much as we can do now.' 

Then turning to Minnie, he showed her the required change 
in the compass, and dropped back into his place. And now they 
both pulled with all their might. Not a word was spoken for 
another half -hour. And now the fog again became so thick that 
they could not see five yards from the boat. Johnny again 
breaks silence by saying: 

" We will be either out to sea or close on land by the Fort in 
fifteen minutes. Can you hold out pulling for that time, Cap- 
tain ?" turning his head to Walter as he spoke. 

"Yes, Johnny, I can hold out if you can." 

" I will do so if it kills me," was Johnny's rex)]y. 

" Why do you say Mteen minutes, Johnny?" said Walter. 

"Because, Captain, I know about what time it takes to cross 
the bay, in any way you can take it, and I have had two such 
scrapes as this before, and we saved ourselves by an oar's 
length." 

No more was then said, and Walter and Johnny pulled as men 
pull for dear life. Johnny soon began to duck down his head 
in a listening attitude, but made no remark until the full fifteen 
minutes were passed. Then he said, in a low, disappointed 
tone: 

" We must have missed it, Captain; the ebbing tide was too 
much for us." 

No one spoke for ten minutes more, and Walter and Johnny 



G64 PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 

pulled on with all tlieir strength. Then Johnny suddenly ex- 
claimed : 

" Oh, we are out beyond the Heads, sure; for here are the big 
waves and swells. I must take the tiller, or we ruay be cap- 
sized." 

And i)oor Minnie, with her heart sunk low, but courageous, 
took a seat in front of Walter. 

" Take it easy now. Captain; for Ave must cruise here till day- 
light," was Johnny's first remark after taking his new position. 
Minnie asked him, in a low voice: 

" Can a boat as small as this live at sea?" 

"Yes, lady; in moderate Aveather we might live a month, if 
well managed, and even longer." 

"Johnny," said Waiter, "you know a hundred times more 
about the sea than I do; so I will be guided in what I do by 
what you say." 

" Well, if you can row on, in an easy sort of a way, for about 
twenty minutes, do so. Then I can judge where we are by the 
motion of the water. I know noAV that Ave have crossed the bar, 
and that we are at sea; but I cannot yet tell our relative position 
to the harbor." 

So Walter rowed on as advised by Johnny, while he spoke 
cheerfully to Minnie. 

" Oh. Walter,'' she said, "I am not frightened. Our situa- 
tion out here on this dark water is surely fearful; but, oh, how 
little I mind it, compared to the terrible danger we were deliv- 
ered from this very evening. " 

" Yes," said Walter; " I do not mind this in the least, though 
we may be in danger; but it is danger from death, and death 
only. The frightful position we escaped from I cannot, even 
now, on this dark, dismal sea, bear to think of in comparison." 

" No, Walter; somehow I feel and seem to realize that here 
we are, if I may so express it, in God's especial keeping! That 
He holds us in his hand, as it were, to do with us as He sees fit. 
So let us bow cheerfully to His will, whatever that may be." 

" Darling Minnie, it makes me feel hapjiy to hear you talk so 
bravely, and I hope I Avill set you no bad example. I Avish I 
could know that that note was really taken up and paid, and 
then, it appears to me, I would feel joerfectly satisfied; for then, 
if anything Avas to happen to us out here, there would be no 
danger of disgrace to our name." 



PIONEER TIMES lA CALIFORNIA. 665 

"You mean the forged note in Page, Bacon & Co.'s bank?" 
said Johnny. 

" Yes, Johnny. What do you know about it?" 

" Oh, I know all about. That was the wa}^ they were to send 
you to State Prison, if your sister did not marry Captain Lusk; 
and they tried to get the note out of the bank. But the bank 
would not give it up without an order from you; and then Lusk 
forged a letter from you, telling the bank to give it up. But 
just as Brown got to the bank, he saw the clerk handing the 
note to a man by the name of Fitzgerald. When Lusk heard 
that he swore, and was very mad." 

" Oh, that is glorious!" said the brother and sister. " Thank 
you, Johnny, thank you." 

" Now," said .Johnny, " let us not talk, but listen. Stop row- 
ing. Captain." 

Then Johnny threw himself on the side of the boat, and let- 
ting his head drop near the water, remained listening for five 
minutes, while he seemed hardly to breathe. He then sat up erect, 
and said : 

" Now, Captain, lay up your oars. We are over a mile from 
land, anyway, and it may be that the ebb tide has taken us miles 
out. So now make a place for the lady to lie down on, and you 
and I will take watch about, until daylight." 

"I am satisfied," said Walter, " and I will take the first 
watch. So tell me what it is necessary for me to do while on the 
watch ?" 

" You are to keep the tiller in your hand, and keep the boat 
heading towards the swells and waves, as I am doing; and you 
must keep your ears sharp open, to catch the sound of breakers, 
in case we should drift in shore, or on the rocks." 

" Now," said Minnie, " if that is all there is to do, I insist on 
taking a watch, so that you two, who are so terribly tired from 
rowing, can get some sleep. I am fresh, and could not sleep 
if I were to lie down now. so I entreat to be let do this, dear 
Walter." 

At first Walter would not listen to the proposal, but at length 
he yielded to her earnest request, and it was agreed that she was 
to take the first two hours, as her watch, on condition that she 
should lie down for the remainder of the night. Walter now 
gave Minnie his time-piece, putting the guard-chain around her 
neck, and Johnny and he wrapped themselves in their blankets 
and were soon asleep at her feet. 



666 PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 

Now, my young readers, let me ask you to stop with ms and 
look at Minnie as she sits upright, with unflinching courage, in 
the stern of that boat, with both her little hands grasping the 
tiller. There is no covering on her head but her own luxuriant 
hair, for her ears must be kept free to hear every uncommon 
sound. Her form, from her waist down, is wrapped in the red 
blanket, got from the pirate ship. Her large, bright eyes are wide 
open, trying to pierce the darkness around her. She scarcely 
breathes, she is listening so for the dangers she is warned of. 
Her brother and the boy are sleeping at her feet, wrapped in 
their blankets. Now and then she glances at them, and a smile 
of satisfaction, though sad it may be, passes over her face, and 
then her gaze is upwards for a moment, and her lips quiver and 
move, as if in earnest supplication to Him in whose keeping 
she knows their frail bark rides the dark, fearful ocean beneath 
her. Boys and girls of California j)ioneer parents, be proud, for 
such were your mothers! Aye, and to you men of the Califor- 
nia Pioneer Society, we will say shame ! for such are the 
women your constitution excludes from membership. 

Just at one o'clock Minnie called "Walter, as had been agreed 
on, and then laid down herself in his place, and was soon rocked 
to sleep by the great waves of the mighty waters of the Pacific. 
^Valter's watch was three hours, Johnny then took his turn, 
while Walter slept soundly until after the approach of daylight. 
The only land in sight as light spread over the ocean, was a 
mountain, far to the north of them; and they found it impossi- 
ble to judge in what position they were to the harbor of San 
Francisco. However, after some discussion, they put the boat on 
a course they thought most likely to be correct, and rowed slow- 
ly on in that direction. Then breakfast was made on hard bread 
and a drink of the water from the supply Jack had given them. 
They had made an unexpected discovery this morning. They 
found, in the bottom of the boat, the two buckskin bags of gold- 
dust that had been stolen from Walter the night of his arrival 
in San Francisco from Downieville. The bags were exactly in 
the condition they were when Walter handed them to Brown for 
safe-keeping, sealed as Walter had sealed them, and each seal 
was marked: "Wagner and Hilton. $3,500." Johnny gave a 
smile as the discovery was made, and said: 

" Those two sacks went on board the Blue Bell the night you 
gave them to Brown." 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 667 

Walter threw them down again, saying: 

" That was what Jack alluded to last night, when he said he 
put something on board belonging to us of right. And they will 
be nice to have if we get safely home." 

"Yes, Walter, dear," said Minnie; " and I take our finding 
them as a good omen." 

The gold was not thought of again for some time. The sea 
was calm, and the day proved intensely hot. They were all 
feverish from the excitement and hard rowing of the night be- 
fore, and Waiter, particularly, drank water very often. Johnny 
at length said: 

" That will not do. Captain; we must drink as little as possi- 
ble, for we may get out of water before we get out of this 
scrape, and then we die sure ! ' 

This caution startled Walter and Minnie, as they had never 
thought of such a chance as that before. So now all drank 
sparingly. The whole day passed, but no land came in sight in 
the direction in which they were rowing. Nor did a sail show 
itself. The night closed in, and was gone through just as the 
night before had been. They were now very sparing of the 
water, and Johnny measured out each one's allowance with an 
old tin cup he found in the boat. Minnie wanted to take less 
than Walter and Johnny, insisting that they needed it more than 
she did; but to this they would not listen, and insisted on her 
taking her full share with them. 

" Yes, Minnie," said Walter; "while the water lasts, we will 
share and share alike, and trust in God for the rest!" 

The morning of the second day came, and was, like the first, 
hot and parching; and no land yet appeared in sight. They now 
materially changed their course, and rowed on in a slow sort of 
a way. They reduced the allowance of water to the very lowest 
living quantity, and all were suffering terribly from thirst. They 
had plenty of the hard bread, but they dare not eat it, because 
it increased their thirst to drink. Sometimes they broke crumbs 
of the bread in a few drops of the water, and took both to- 
gether in that way. Three or four sails appeared in sight this 
day, but, though they kept their red blankets up as a signal, no 
notice was taken of it, and the sails disappeared, one after 
another, leaving them almost in despair. At four o'clock, land 
came plainly in sight, but they were unfit to row in consequence 
of their want of water, for every drop was now gone, and their 



668 PIONEEB TIMES IIS' CALIFORNIA. 

suffering became nearly intolerable. Johnny showed them bow 
to relieve themselves, in some degree, by placing cloths soaked in 
salt water around their necks and on their stomachs. He cut 
steel buttons from their clothes, and, putting one in his own 
mouth, told "Walter and Minnie to do the same, as he explained 
to them that the working of any hard substance in their mouths 
would bring moisture there,- and give partial relief. He, himself, 
did not hesitate to saturate all his clothes in salt water. "Walter 
was apparently affected more by the thirst than either Johnny 
or Minnie, yet there was an unnatural wild, bright light even in 
their eyes. The terrible night closed in, and now "Walter got 
fits of fearful wildness. He laughed immoderately; then sud- 
denly stopped, and insisted that the sea was all on fire around 
them. This was frightful to hear, and then Minnie, in a 
suppressed, gentle voice would say: 

"Darling Walter, try and control yourself." 

He would put his hand over his eyes, saying: " Yes, dear 
Minnie, you are right; I will, I will." Then, in a little while, 
he would begin to sing, saying: " "We may as well sing, Min- 
nie. There is no harm in that." 

Then again Minnie would control him, and so the fearful third 
night was spent. Day light came; but an intense, dark fog was 
on the sea. Johnny raised up from where he lay, and said: 

" Now, let us all join in one long, loud cry. It may be some 
ship is lying very near us, and will hear it. I have known of 
such a cry at sea being heard a great distance through a fog like 
this." 

So they all joined in the cry, and it was beyond description 
mournful to hear. Minnie joined, but her cry was all to God, 
asking for Walter's safety far more than her own. They sat 
back, Johnny and Walter with their heads resting on the side of 
the boat,, almost gasping for breath. Minnie sat erect, as calm 
and composed as ever; but her lips were apart, and her breath 
was hard and short. After awhile, Johnny gave the signal, and 
one cry m Dre went out into the fog, with a yet more terrible and 
mournful sound. Walter now threw himself into the bottom of 
the boat, and laid his head in Minnie^s lap, looking up in her 
face, as with a smile, he said: 

" Poor Minnie!" 

She stooped her head down, and kissed him, saying: 

"Walter, darling, say 'Thy will, not mine, be done, my 
God.' " 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 669 

Walter instantly repeated the words after her, and, closing his 
eyes, he seemed sometimes half-asleep, and sometimes a choking 
spasm shook his frame; but he never moved his head from Min- 
nie's lap, and she continued to every now and then change the 
wet cloth on his neck. Suddenly Johnny cries out: 

" Oh, we are saved ! we are saved ! A brig ! look, a brig ! 
A brig ! Oh, we are saved ! we are saved !" 

And he leaps up and down, and then gives a loud cry, and 
drops back into the bottom of the boat in a half-stupor. Walter 
started at Johnny's cry, raised his head and sees the brig; then 
dropped it back into the same position, saying: 

" Why won-'t they let us die in peace ?" 

Minnie hears the cry, raises her head, and sees the ship com- 
ing directly for them. Her eyes are fastened on it. Now she 
sees a boat lowered. Now the ship and boat look to her all on 
fire, and in the bright fire-light she plainly sees James. De For- 
est. Now her senses seem to be all confused. She laughs 
aloud, leans her head down over Walter, and, with her hand 
turning back his hair from his forehead, she murmurs: " Dar- 
ling, darling!" and continues laughing hysterically. The ship's 
boat is now alongside, and Minnie hears a well-known voice 
close to her, saying: 

"Oh, darling Minnie, you are saved !" 

She turns her head with a sudden start, and says: 

" Oh, yes, James; I knew we would find you in heaven before 
us. Poor Walter and I died last night. How long have you 
been here ?" 

Frightened and shocked, De Forest trembled at the sight be- 
fore him, and only said: 

' ' Darling Minnie, Walter and you are both saved. Try and 
compose yourselves." 

" Oh, yes, James; but if you were here when we died, you 
would have been so sorry." Then suddenly she calls loudly: 
" Water, water, for Walter !" 

They were now alongside the brig, and De Forest, catching 
Minnie in his arms, scrambled up the side in sailor fashion, and 
laid his precious burden safely down on the deck of the May Day. 
The sailors did the same for Walter and the boy. The Captain 
now took charge of restoring the sufferers, and would allow no 
interference. Water was given to them by spoonfuls only. The 
boy recovered first, and, as he came to himself, he suddenly 



670 PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFOKNIA. 

sprung from the man in charge of him, and caught up the 
pitcher of water, out of which they were slowlj feeding him, 
and when he was seized to prevent him from drinking too much, 
he yelled like a maniac. They overpowered him, however, and, 
under the Captain's judicious treatment, he and Walter fast re- 
covered. Minnie's case seemed a more difficult one, and Mrs. 
Marshall found it very hard to subdue her fits of hysterical 
laughing and crying. At length, she seemed to become com- 
posed, and to realize that they were saved; but her delicate 
physical structure had been tried to the utmost, if not beyond 
its endurance, and it apparently had great difficulty in regaining 
its full vigor, though her mind had righted itself, and was once 
more clear and steady. By the middle of the afternoon Walter 
was sleeping calmly. Johnny was also sound asleep in one of 
the sailor's bunks. Poor Minnie slept, but her sleejD was un- 
easy, and when she awoke, it was evident that she was in a high 
fever. The Golden Gate was now in plain view, and the May 
Day had at last a fair wind. So, with every sail set, she was 
soon in the bay; and now at six o'clock in the evening she was 
alongside the wharf in San Francisco. And that was the news 
the policeman was bringing when he called to John McGlynn 
and Captain Fitzgerald, saying: 

" News ! news ! Come to the Chief's office !" 
As soon as the May Day had touched the wharf, De Forest 
had Walter and Minnie conveyed in a carriage to their cottage; 
and Mrs. Marshall kindly accompanied them, as Minnie's fever 
continued to increase. Minnie now lay in bed in her own, sweet, 
little room, but in a burning fever. Jane was soon back at her 
post, and Dr. Coit was called, and did all that was possible to 
subdue the fever that raged in her veins. All night Jane and 
Mrs; Marshall watched by Minnie; but morning found her no 
better. Walter and all her friends were in the greatest alarm. 
A nurse was procured, as good Mrs. Marshall had to return to 
her husband . Then the news reached Colonel Eaton's of Min- 
nie's great danger, and Mrs. Eaton and Fannie both came in 
haste to see her, which ended in their staying to nurse her. 
Nine days; and yet poor Minnie seemed to linged between life 
and death, and Dr. Coit would give no opinion. A council of 
physicians was called, and Dr. Coit's treatment was approved. 
Another day, and all is joy and happiness, for Dr. Coit, as he 
leaves Minnie's room, says; 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. G71 

" The crisis is past, Mrs. Eaton. She is safe, if properly 
cared for. Visitors kept away, and all allusions to the terrible 
scenes she has lately gone through should be carefully avoided." 

Walter and De Forest, who were crouched down in their 
chairs in the little sitting-room, waiting for the doctor^s words, 
which they knew were to announce Minnie's life or death, 
heard what he said to Mrs. Eaton with feelings of joy that 
no. one can describe. But we know that in their ecstasy of joy, 
they did not forget to acknowledge with overflowing gratitude 
from whence the blessing came. Yes, dear Minnie; the storm 
that was so long gathering over you has spent its force, and has 
now cleared away, leaving not a trace of a cloud behind to cast 
a shadow on your future California life. You are not only un- 
injured, but you have proved yourself to be a Christian in faith 
and fidelity, and every inch a true woman; a worthy daughter 
of the great Republic that gave you birth; a worthy child of 
the young giant State you have adopted as your own, and that 
3'ou love so devotedly. Yes, Minnie; the clouds are all gone, 
and we have not a doubt but that your faith in God will be as 
undoubting and unfaltering in the bright sunshine of your com- 
ing life as it was when the night was the darkest. 



CHAPTER XXVIII. 



HAPPY EVENTS — CONCLUSION. 



A fewwords more and my little history must end, for I cannot 
intrude further on friends by going into their after lives, even if 
their career among us be ever so prosperous. 

While Minnie was so sick Walter was surprised one morning 
by a visit from Johnny Lucky. 

" Captain," said he, " you see, I was walking along the shore, 
beyond the Presidio, just to look at the place they say the Blue 
Bell went ashore the night we left her, and I suddenly came on 
two dead bodies that were washed on shore, and I turned them 
over, and one was old Jack sure; so I thought I would ask you 
to help me to get it nicely buried near poor Miss Lizzie's 
grave." 

And here the boy turned away and wiped his eyes. 
Walter at once gave the necessary assistance. So, for long 
years, a marble head-stone stood in the Yerba Buena Cemetery, 
with two names handsomely engraved on it ; one was Elizabeth 
Lawson, the other was John Lawson, and the grave was always 
handsomely decorated with rose-bushes and geraniums, evident- 
ly well guarded and cared for by some unknown hand. 

At this interview with Johnny, Walter inquired if he knew any- 
thing of what became of the body of Lusk. The boy told him 
that the next day after leaving the May Day he went ta Sau- 
celito to see if he could find any traces of the body of Ike Law- 
son; but that he did not find a trace of it, and that when he 
visited the spot where they had hanged Lusk he found that the 
rope had been cut by its friction on the rocks, and that the body 
had disappeared in the sea. 

During the following year Walter often met with John Lucky; 
but he was always reticent, and at length disappeared alto- 
gether from his view; and, though many knew him and had often 
listened to his strange stories, yet, when he finally disappeared, 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. G73 

no one could tell where he went to, no more than any one, or 
even himself, could tell where he came from, in the first j)lace. 

When once Minnie passed the crisis, she regained her health 
and strength rapidly, and on the third day of her convalesence 
Mrs. Eaton and Fannie left for their own home, as the Colonel 
expressed himself very lonely without them 

Minnie was now overrun with congratulations from all her 
friends. Captain Fitzgerald was installed as a member of her 
family, and the evening of his life was rescued from its lonesome 
outlook. 

Minnie and James De Forest have had their full explanation, 
and he is entirely satisfied with her reasons for not being more 
open with him when such grave difficulties began to gather 
around Walter —but then he hints to her that perhaps she was 
a little too proud in the matter. 

"Well, dear James," she says, "perhaps that was so, and 
that I was punished for my pride." 

"Well, never mind, darling Minnie," he says; " all is well 
that ends well, you know; and if I had not started for Oregon 
just as I did, perhaps no one on board of the May Day would 
have heard your cry for help." 

And then they closed the discussion in a way to suit them- 
selves, and settled the matter as sweetly and as innocently as 
they had often made up disputes when children together. 

Captain Fitzgerald is preparing to start for New York to bring 
out his long-lost sister. Then Walter and Minnie give the Cap- 
tain a i)Ower of attorney to join with their mother in making a 
deed of their sweet little Newark homestead to Uncle John Wag- 
ner. Then James De Forest goes to Oregon, to return by the 
time Captain Fitzgerald gets back; and he does return all 
right, after having prepared a beautiful residence in his Oregon 
home in every respect as he knew Minnie's taste to be. 

After Fanny Eaton returned home with her mother, Walter 
very soon found he had pressing business in the neighborhood 
of Sacramento. Faunie's heart bounds when she hears his 
voice in the parlor. She is pale and scarlet by turns. She 
cannot stay out of the parlor, though she did not wish to appear 
to be in a hurry to go in. As she enters, she intends to look sur- 
prised when she sees Walter, but she makes an egregious 
failure of it — and finds she cannot possibly ask him, as she in- 
tended to do, what he came for; for she kuows right well what 
he came for, yet wishes to pretend she did not. 



G74: PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 

That evening Walter has a long talk with the Colonel, in 
which Mrs. Eaton joins. Then Mrs. Eaton's handkerchief is all 
wet with tears of lonesomeness and joy. 

Early the next morning Walter takes a chance to talk to 
Fannie. He tells her of Minnie's engagement and impending 
marriage with James De Forest, and goes on to tell her how 
terribly lonesome and miserable he will be when Minnie is gone; 
and draws such a sad picture that Fannie's tears flow faat, and 
then her heart throbs — oh, so hard, that you could hear it across 
the room — and she lets Walter take her hand, for the poor fel- 
low is so sad and lonesome talking of Minnie; and then, as he 
whispers something, very low, to her, she looks up. Then their 
eyes meet, and then — and then — yes — and then — well, I can- 
not tell a word more without a breach of confidence; so excuse 
me, my dear young readers ; but one thing I will tell you, 
though strange it may appear, after such depression and sad- 
ness: 

When Walter and Minnie appeared at breakfast they were 
both — yes, both — though Minnie was to go to Oregon so soon — 
in the wildest and most joyous spirits ; and the happy feeling 
seemed to have a contagion about it; for Colonel and Mrs. 
Eaton acted as happily and frolicsome as if they were only just 
'married that day themselves, or going to be,' instead of the staid 
old couple they were the night before when Mrs. Eaton had 
such use for her handkerchief. 

Then, after Walter gets back to San Francisco, comes a letter 
to Fannie from Minnie, full of joyous congratulations and light- 
hearted fun, and it concludes: 

" So you see. Miss Fannie, I am not the mischievous, wicked, 
good-for-nothing girl you once called me, after all. And now, 
Fannie, darling sister, as from this day I call you, I want you to 
get your dear parents to consent that we be married the same 
day, here in San Francisco." 

And so it was in the end arranged. Then came good Isaac 
Hilton to San Francisco; and, after due consideration, articles 
of partnership between him and Walter were agreed on, to do 
business in San Francisco. Walter^s recovered gold gave him 
sufficient capital to do this, and Captain Fitzgerald put twenty 
thousand dollars into the concern as a silent partner. 

Then came the realization of James De Forest's day-dream; 
but even brighter and more joyous than he had dared to dream it. 



PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 675 

It was a doublo marriage . Minnie and Fanny botli wore the 
white dresses and orange-blossoms^ as he had it in his fancy. 
As Minnie was arranging her bridal ornaments, she showed 
James the locket with the sweet little rosebud he had given 
her so long ago at the little cottage gate in Newark. And it 
spoke of truth and constancy more sweetly than words could 
do. 

The little church in Market street is crowded with friends on 
that early morning. 

James De Forest and Minnie, Walter and Fannie, stand be- 
fore the altar. Father Maginnis is there to perform the double 
marriage. Walter and Minnie's beloved mother is there, as 
well as Colonel and Mrs. Eaton, Captain Fitzgerald, Isaac Hil- 
ton and his good wife, John A. McGlynn, James Becket, Mr. 
and Mrs. Edmund Allen, with their two beautiful eldest chil- 
dren. 

Jerry Brady had come on a special invitation from Minnie to 
be master of ceremonies in the carriage line — and it is my opin- 
ion that General Sherman did not look half so proud when he 
was marching through Washington City, at the head of a victor- 
ious army at the close of the war of the rebellion, than Jerry 
Brady did that wedding day while giving orders in regard to 
the carriages. 

Captain Fitzgerald had presented Jerry with a fine gold watch 
and chain. The chain was in length and fashion of the regular 
log-chain style, and no horseman in the State could show one 
to excel it. 

I will just mention here that Jerry found himself greatly dis- 
turbed and made very unhappy by the many attractions of Jane 
(Minnie's faithful hired girl), and, seeing that she was attracted 
by this display of gold across his breast, he thought it a favor- 
able moment to tell Jane of his desolate and unhappy feeling, 
and of the nice little home he had in Sacramento to share with 
somebody; and she listened and listened until Jerry slyly got 
a turn of the gold chain around her neck; and the consequences 
wa3 that Jerry Brady wrote to his dear, old mother in Ireland 
and countermanded the order for "the girl that was to be 
shipped for him around Caj)e Horn, with a bit of a bill of lad- 
ing, all properly signed by the Captain of the ship," as he had 
told the gamblers that morning on the Marysville road, when he 
was so gallantly aiding in Minnie's rescue. 



67G PIONEER TIMES IN CALIFOF.NIA.. 

A.S Father Maginnis was wishing Miunie good-byo, he said: 

" Minnie, child, you are too much dressed to-day. Take off 
those things," pointing to her gay bridal dress and ornaments, 
" as soon as you can, and put on your every-day, useful 
clothes." 

Minnie laughed, and then she saw big tears in the old man's 
eyes, as he continued in a low, hurried voice : 

" God bless you, Minnie; be as good as you always were. 
Good-bye, good-bye. I am in a hurry to be off." 

Then came a magnificent breakfast given to that joyous wed- 
ding party by Captain Fitzgerald and his sister, Mrs. Wagner. 
As at that time I was a reporter for one of the daily papers, I had 
an invitation, and enjoyed the whole scene with a zest a pioneer 
Calif ornian alone could feel . I marked well the company, and 
I felt proud of our people and of our young State. And, as I 
walked home, I could not help exclaiming : " Oh, California ! 
California! if your acquisition has cost treasure and valuable 
lives, you have flung broadcast over your sister States gold by 
the million and the million, that has cheered many and many 
a household, and saved from breaking many and many a weary 
heart ! And you have, besides, enriched the National treasury, 
which may yet save the nation, if endangei-ed by foreign foe, or 
civil feud. Yes; if your coming has brought sorrow to some 
hearts, you have also brought joys to many, with no sparing 
hand. If, in the wish to possess themselves of your treasures, 
villains and hypocrites have come to the surface, and fed for a 
time on the vitals of the people, you have also drawn forth 
from obscurity a hundred times the number of as brave and no- 
ble a race of men as ever trod the earth; and, above all, you have 
drawn forth for our administration and love, a race of women 
unsurpassed, the world over, in every quality that makes women 
dear to men, and fit mothers for children of this rej)ublic. 

Yes; California, you have drawn forth in ^47, '48, '49, '50 and 
'51, pioneer women worthy of a place in history alongside those 
who accompanied the English emigrants to Plymouth Kock, and 
Lord Baltimore to the shores of Maryland. Yes; whose history 
will serve to arouse emulation among the true daughters of 
America and shame away luxuriant idleness from the precincts 
of their houses. 

Yes; dear California, we may be proud of your men, your cli- 



PIONEEE TIMES IN CALIFORNIA. 677 

mate, your soil, your great rivers and bays, your inexhaustible 
hidden treasures, your spreading fields of golden grain that will 
yet feed half the world, your boundless pastures, with uncounted 
herds and flocks, furnishing to all the most delicious meats; but, 
above all this, every true son \o\i have will be prouder, far, of 
your pioneer women, and will forever love and honor them; for 
to us pioneer men they were all in all, and, being tried in the 
crucible of a pioneer life^ they proved to be of the purest GOLD. 

THK END. 








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